Inside Job
by Sason
Summary: When an attack happens in one of the elevators in NCIS headquarters, Gibbs and his team are shocked to discover that Tony is the victim of the crime. Now they have to figure out who would want to hurt him or whether he is even alive. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N to all my loyal readers of Father and Son. I am having a mental block on that story because this one just wouldn't leave me alone. Hopefully you all will forgive me but this has been playing on my mind for two weeks and I hope that it will help me finish Father and Son. Please let me know what you guys think of this one too if you want me to continue with it or not :)**_

_**Thanks in advance**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I want, I want, I want, but alas sadly - I don't got :P  
**_

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Inside Job

Senior Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had just sat down to enjoy the third coffee of his morning. Seeing as it was only 0800 hours on Monday, Gibbs thought to himself he was obviously in for one hell of a week. The week had started with the main elevator being out of order, a fact displayed by the scrawl of red ink stuck to the elevator doors in the main foyer. Normally, something as simple as this little inconvenience would not bother him it was just that the second elevator at the back of NCIS headquarters was more crowded than usual. The amount of people that were squished in the claustrophobic space had started his day off on the wrong foot. Gibbs was an old-fashioned agent, one who relied more on his instincts than what the facts told him. He was a damn good investigator, well, the continuous string of unaccepted awards told the world that he was. He was a simple man with complications, more of a man with a complicated life rather than complications in his life. Although, the fact that his Senior Field Agent, Anthony DiNozzo, still hadn't shown up for work was starting to change that ideal.

Gibbs picked up his cell again and pressed the single digit that held the agent's all-too-familiar phone number. It dialed through and started ringing only to be answered by Tony's recorded voice. Waiting for the beep, Gibbs yelled down the speaker.

"DiNozzo! You had better have a damn good excuse for being over an hour late. I do not care if you claim to have Monday-itis, you will not have a job if you do not get here soon!"

Gibbs flipped his phone shut loudly, bringing his fellow agents up for air from all the back-log of paper work that needed to be done. Both Ziva David and Timothy McGee stared across the partitioned section at their boss with questioning glances but were quick to resume their previous positions under the piles of files waiting to be attended to. Gibbs was never in a good mood but Tony always seemed to irritate the older man that little more than anyone else.

Gibbs sat at his desk, staring at the one that was diagonally opposite his, where the Senior Field Agent on his team was usually situated. It seemed a little too quiet, even eerily quiet, without Tony's antics being played in the bullpen. Even though Tony thought he got away with a lot of his pranks without Gibbs knowledge, Gibbs smiled as he thought of some of the more inventive ways that Tony had made the time of a work day pass. Super-gluing things to other things seemed to be one of his favourites, although, generally for poor Tim, that meant some part of his body being super-glued to some form of office furniture. Gibbs would never admit it but some of the hazing could be quite humorous.

Half an hour had disappeared while Gibbs was in his reverie. He had let his third cup of thick brew go cold and had decided to throw it away. Gibbs stood up and headed towards the main elevator, asking the remainder of his crew if they would like anything while he was gone. He walked over to the elevator and pushed the down button, lighting it up on impact.

"Ah Boss?" Tim yelled from his desk in the bullpen.

"What McGee?"

Tim ran across towards where the older man was standing, pointing in the direction of the elevator doors.

"Ah…the…ah…"

"Spit it out McGee." Gibbs chided to stop the involuntary stutter his junior agent had suddenly acquired.

"The elevator, Boss, it's out of order."

Gibbs looked at the sign that Tim had been pointing at displaying the dripping, red handwriting. Gibbs rolled his eyes at Tim, sending him a no-nonsense glare instructing him to head back towards his own desk to continue with the task at hand. As they both turned to leave, however, the elevator pinged at the third floor and the doors rolled open. Gibbs smiled with satisfaction as he turned towards the lift. The smile quickly dropped as he noticed that the cleaning crew obviously hadn't got to this elevator over the weekend.

"McGee! David! Grab your gear!" Gibbs voice echoed across the entire floor filled with the curious eyes of Federal Agents. A soft whisper could be heard starting to filter through the office as the people nearest to the elevator began explaining the scene oozing from the metallic box.

Gibbs ogled the interior design of the obvious crime scene before him, swallowing hard, trying to figure out how an attack could happen so close to home. Red covered every wall of the interior stainless steel, even covering parts of the porous ceiling and carpeted floor. Everywhere you looked there seemed to be a cascade of red running down a wall of silver. If this was in fact, blood, someone sure took one hell of a beating.

Tim had started instinctively taking photos of the scene, marking each pool of blood for future reference taking in all the gore that the elevator had hidden. He was facing the back wall of the lift, taking the photos with the skill of five years under his belt in the same job. He was careful not to stand in the lift, for fear of contaminating the scene with his shoe prints as he hadn't geared up properly. Instead he just stood at the open threshold, flashing at all the points of interest that he could muster. He noted that there were four main sections in the area that displayed copious amounts of blood spatter. The fifth section seemed to be a blood trail from the railing at the back of the section all the way down to the floor. Tim thought to himself it seemed as though the victim must have fallen against the back wall exhausted or unconscious. He watched the evidence through the lens of the camera as the flash reverberated off the shiny metal, illuminating the scene with more intensity than was deemed necessary.

The four blood spatters covered the two side walls of the interior. The first one was up high on the left wall towards the ceiling, suggesting an upward motion from a weapon, more than likely a knife of some sort, the density of the pattern suggesting that it was further away than the other three patterns that were of a similar size and closer together. The first of the three that Tim noticed was in the middle of the right-hand side wall, the stainless steel wall displaying it like a Jackson Pollack painting. He did note, however, that the blood loss was minimal because the blood had dried leaving a minimal blood trail down the wall, meaning that the attack was misplaced or the attacker definitely knew what they were doing.

The second spatter was in the bottom left-hand corner, the side of the elevator the controls did not appear on. The blood had soaked into the carpet. In the arrangement of blood, there seemed to be a straight line which was inconsistent with a random blood spill. McGee flashed the inconsistency, identifying it with a yellow, numbered marker. Tim looked over the area, ensuring that he hadn't missed anything, nearly head-slapping himself as he nearly missed the dint displayed above the blood.

The fourth spatter was on the floor and fairly spread apart but seemed to come to an abrupt halt at the edge of the elevator floor. Tim seemed puzzled by this, maybe thinking that something or someone had gotten in the way.

"Boss?"

"Yeah McGee?"

"It looks as though there could be a blood trail leading out of the elevator."

Gibbs searched the well-worn carpet of the third floor.

"The body wasn't dragged out here, McGee. Maybe it started here. Get DiNozzo…" Gibbs voice trailed off in thought as he realized his first in command was still not in the building.

"Ziva!"

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Run down to Abby's lab. Tell her I need her to pull all the security footage from all the cameras that surround the main lift. Tell her to start from Friday 2300 hours when I left until this morning at 0800 hours. Stay down there and give her a hand."

"What is it exactly that we are looking for Gibbs?"

"Any sign of what may have occurred in this elevator."

"On it!" Ziva ran across the bullpen to the second lift on the other side of the third floor, disappearing with it as the doors swallowed her inside. Gibbs' gut was churning and not in a good way.

McGee stood staring at the blood down the back wall of the enclosed space. Trying not to contaminate the scene, Tim leaned in the space, centering on what seemed to be a large dint.

After having taken the photo several times, making sure that the flash mirroring off the stainless steel didn't interfere with the shot, Tim flicked the button that would allow him to make sure all the photos he had taken would actually turn out.

After flicking backwards through the memory card, Tim gasped as he stood frozen to the spot where he stood, the colour of his face disappearing with the seconds that passed. Gibbs, having been only standing a couple of metres away from his junior agent, heard the sharp intake of breath and turned in his direction.

"McGee you alright?" not looking into the eyes of his agent, rather finishing the notes he was taking regarding the crime that had taken place. After receiving no reply, Gibbs looked up, actually noticing the hollow stare that the younger man had on his face.

"Tim?" Gibbs asked again, more understanding in his voice as he tried to figure out what had his agent disobeying a direct order, having failed to answer him for the second time.

Gibbs looked over Tim's shoulder at the camera that lay in his hands. Gibbs' jaw dropped as the image came into view, his heart racing as the picture stuck firm in his mind. Gibbs opened his phone and dialed another familiar number.

"Autopsy." The voice filled with the Scottish brogue filtered through the receiver.

"Duck, I need you up on the third floor. I've got something I need you to see."

A click was heard on the other end as the conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Flipping his phone shut, Gibbs eyes had never averted from the photo on the camera. The LCD screen displayed the now familiar scene that Tim and he had spent the last half hour processing. The blood was all the same, the colour of the carpet, the stainless steel walls and railing. The only thing different was the body. Blood was dripping through the cuts that covered the upper torso and the bicep of the right arm. The suit was black, the shirt, although covered in blood, displayed splotches of a faint blue colour. The face could not be seen but the mop of hair was indistinguishable with all the blood covering it.

Ducky sidled up beside the two agents wondering what all the fuss was about when he took a look at the elevator.

"Ooh, what have we got here?"

"That's not what I need you to have a look at Duck," Gibbs said as he tore his sight away from the image that he had been staring at.

"Over here Duck," Gibbs said pointing towards the image displayed on the camera, prying it away from Tim's fingers.

"Oh my, well yes Jethro, it definitely seems like the same scene, same blood spatter and … oh dear."

"What is it Duck?"

"You're not going to like this, Jethro."

Gibbs looked towards the ME and asked the question with his eyebrow raised. Ducky turned the camera around displaying a different image than the one he had been given. Gibbs emotions caught in his throat as he took in every detail of the close up image of the victim's face. The image showed a nose that was bloody suggesting that it had been belted in some way. Swelling covered all of the face from cuts of obvious torture, not deep enough to be life threatening, but in areas that were definitely sensitive to any sort of pain. The cut below both eyes, down the sides of both cheeks across the top lip, all were meant to inflict pain. The person who suffered all this torture was brave, suggesting that they didn't break under the strain. Gibbs eyes squinted at the face, although slightly disfigured, he was sure.

Gibbs was staring into the open eyes of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: sorry for the delay on this one guys. Been trying to focus my energies on getting Father and Son done. It is actually quite difficult writing two stories at a time I've discovered. Hopefully you all like this chapter and thankyou to everyone that reviewed the first chapter. I am aware that it was made difficult to find but i think that was my mistake. I promise not to make the same mistake again._**

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Tim heard the muffled sounds of his boss inside his head. Had he really just seen what he thought he had, on his work-issued camera no less? How could a person feel so hollow and so violated so early on a Monday morning? Tim ran through his memory to make sure that he had locked that camera away in his draw on Friday night as he had left to relish in the fact that they had a rare weekend off. Tim hadn't made any plans but had a really nice time just spending some time writing and other moments enjoying the occasional autumn sun that filtered through the window of his small apartment onto the historic typewriter that sat proudly on his desk. It had been too nice a day to waste so he thought that a stroll in the park about twenty minutes away would make a nice end to a peaceful day. Tony had not crossed his mind once while he was on that walk. He enjoyed the peace and quiet that the park had whispered as he felt his feet reverberate of the small path that lit his way. Not once had he thought of Tony, he reiterated nor wondered what Tony was doing on a magnificent day such as the Sunday just gone. He just assumed that Tony was having a fantastic weekend like he was, enjoying the freedom and possibly getting ready for another date on a Saturday night. Tim was adamant that, even though he hadn't thought once about DiNozzo over the entire weekend, this week he was going to think about him too much.

"McGee?" Gibbs voice broke through his thought pattern and he slowly turned his head towards the only man he held in a higher regard than Tony.

"Get that camera down to Abby's lab. It may have fingerprints on it and I then need you to come back up here and tell me exactly how you secured that camera on Friday night before you left."

"Gotchya Boss," the words running together to form one word and allowing his Team Leader to know that he hadn't disregarded the prospect of there being evidence on his camera, having gloved up the minute they found the photos on the equipment.

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Gibbs watched his younger agent meander his way through the partitions of the third floor, obviously deep in thought. As he witnessed the young man head towards the second elevator, he had a thought, having realized that he had sent Tim into the lion's den. Abby and Ziva did not know about the pictures on Tim's camera. Tim was going to have to face both Abby and Ziva without either of them knowing the news that was about to ruin their Monday morning. Having taken evasive action, Gibbs rang Abby's lab to explain.

"Gibbs? I haven't found anything yet."

"I know Abs, I need to …"

"We haven't even collected all the footage yet – you are ringing too early!"

"Abs…"

"And it's not even nine o'clock on the clock Gibbs. I'm good but I'm not that good…"

"ABBY!" Gibbs was met with a reaction of dumbfounded silence. After allowing Abby to take in a few breaths, Gibbs started to say what he needed to say but no words were escaping. He couldn't let them know over the phone, he had to be in the room with them. Worried by the lack of response a timid voice fell through the receiver and into his ear.

"Gibbs? Are you still there?"

"I'm still here Abby. I… I need you to do something for me." Gibbs could feel his voice shaking but was relieved to discover that it didn't carry down the phone line.

"Tim's on his way down with the photos from the crime scene. Don't look at the photos just yet Abs. I need you to dust it for prints. Tim's prints will be on it so you will have to do some elimination work but I need you to ID any prints on it that don't belong to Tim. Don't ask him any questions either. I will be down as soon as I finish processing the scene." Gibbs wished that DiNozzo was here to give him a hand. "I'll get someone else to finish this up for me. I mean, we're almost done anyway. I'll be down in five"

"OK Gibbs, whatever you want. I'll let Ziva know," and with a click his forensic scientist was off the line.

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Abby turned to Ziva to relay the message that she had received from Gibbs, only to discover that Ziva was not back from collecting all of the footage that they had been asked to grab. Abby knew that Gibbs had information that he wasn't telling them and given the fact that Gibbs had referred to Timmy by his first name, she knew in her gut that what Gibbs needed to tell them was not good.

Ziva strolled in with an armful of video tapes, dumping them on Abby's desk, complaining that it should have been a job for Tony. His arms were bigger. Ziva continued to rattle on, ignoring the fact that a solemn looking McGee had reached Abby's lab, carefully holding his NCIS-issue camera with minimal contact so as to not allow any more of his prints to get in the way of the evidence that may have been contained on it.

"McGee?" Ziva was startled at the sight of Tim, his knuckles white with the force of holding the photographic equipment. She was wondering why he was so quiet and what he was doing down in the lab. She was going to open her mouth to ask again but her arm was grabbed by Abby, forcing Ziva to turn back around to face the extremely tall and pretty Goth that stood before her.

"What is it, Abby?" Ziva noticed that Abby's eyes were looking almost as forlorn as McGee's realizing that she had obviously missed something important. Her eyes looked towards Abby for answers but Ziva was only met with a frown. Ziva turned, stepping backwards so that she get a clearer view of both the forensic scientist and the federal agent, looking to both so that someone might explain to her what was going on.

"Gibbs called," Abby was struggling to hold it together and she couldn't figure out why, as Ziva let out a sigh of realization. "He called to say that he would be down in about five minutes to explain what was happening and also, we weren't to ask Timmy any questions."

Tim's head popped up at the mention of his name, having tried opening his mouth to speak but found he had lost the ability somewhere between the crime scene and the lab. Tim shut his eyes tight again, trying to erase the image of his friend, his partner, so vulnerable, broken and twisted. He was all too aware that he was still holding the camera when Gibbs had entered the lab. Failing to look up, Tim felt a soothing hand on his shoulder and the calloused, experienced hand taking the camera out of his own.

"It's ok, Tim. I've got it now. You can let go." Tim let the camera out of his grasp only just having realized just how tightly he had held on to the important piece of evidence. He looked down at his hands and noticed that his knuckles were white from the strain of nearly strangling the camera for the information that it held. He also felt himself being pushed down into one of the seats that had appeared out of nowhere to be situated behind him. Not moving to look at anyone, Tim's eyes held the staring contest with the linoleum floor of Abby's lab. Geez he needed to throw up.

Abby and Ziva watched as Tim was manipulated into a seat by Gibbs, Gibbs eyes having not yet acknowledged the two young ladies that also occupied the walls. Gibbs walked over to Abby and placed the camera into her latex covered hands, having finally looked into Abby's eyes, allowing himself to realize that this task was going to be a difficult one for all of them. They didn't even know if Tony was alive and after witnessing the evidence of the beating he had taken, Gibbs had to wonder how far into this window they were. Mondays were not good days to start the week with on any normal week. This week was going to be one of the ones that he wouldn't forget in a hurry.

Ziva looked towards her boss for answers as she watched him place the camera into Abby's open palms.

"Gibbs, what is going on?" Ziva knew that Gibbs was going to answer all her questions but she had to figure out why time was moving so slowly. The curiosity was killing her.

Abby finished processing the chain of evidence on the camera and turned towards Gibbs with expectant eyes waiting for answers, her pigtails flinging around in her wake.

Gibbs exhaled and looked towards Tim, seeing that Tim was lost in thought, probably over the image that he had seen or of what had happened to Gibbs' second-in-command. Gibbs swallowed hard, his throat now dry from the shock of seeing Tony so cut up and bleeding.

"Tony…"

"He's ok isn't he Gibbs?" Abby interrupted without even breaking the stare she had interlocked with Gibbs.

"No, Abs, he's not ok." Ziva's breathing had started to become more shallow and deep.

"What's wrong with him?" Ziva's voice broke with the emotion that she was failing to hide.

"When we were upstairs processing the scene, Tim was looking through the pictures on his camera to make sure that the ones that he had taken all turned out. After sorting through them, we found a picture of the scene but…" Gibbs was struggling to finish what he was saying but the image was haunting his larynx.

Abby interrupted his thought process again with a simple question.

"Gibbs, what has happened to Tony?"

"Abby, Ziva, the pictures on Tim's phone held the image of a body that was bloody and beaten…" Tears were threatening to spill out of Abby and Ziva was proceeding to look in every direction but at him.

Gibbs forced himself to continue, his palms sweating profusely and the saliva in his mouth having all but disappeared. The formality in his voice shocked him but it was his way of trying to look at this case objectively, albeit with great difficulty. Gibbs was sure though, that both the women knew what he was getting at.

"… As of this moment, we are looking into the disappearance and possible murder of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

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_**So?? What did we think??**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N Hi everyone. I would like to thank all the people that actually reviewed and alerted this story. I am glad that you seem to at least be intrigued by what may be happening. lol. Father and Son is stuck for the moment and I have discovered that writing two stories at once is quite difficult in that you have to be careful not to mix up the thoughts in each one. I will try and endevour to not do that again to any of you. Please enjoy this chapter. I know I enjoyed writing the end of it at least...

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Chapter 3: Doubt

He was in pain. That he knew was a certainty. How he ended up in pain or as to where he was – that was a completely different matter. Tony opened his eyes but to no avail. He was surrounded by darkness and the incapability of offering no more than a squint to the world. Distant light filtered through the slits of his eyes to hit the optic nerve but no pictures were visible. Tony knew his eyes were swollen but what had he done to deserve whatever pain he had been inflicted with.

Tony tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position but that was also a strain. Pulling at his left arm, he could not move it and in trying to move his right arm, finding the same response. Both of his arms were tied up to whatever it was he was laying on.

With his inability to see and his inability to move, Tony tried to remember what had occurred in order for him to be in such a compromising position. He thought back to the last memory he held. It had been Friday night and he had left for the weekend relishing the fact that he was able to line up a date with Melissa from the coffee shop on the following night. He really liked Melissa and she made really good coffee. While he had been waiting for his cup on Friday afternoon, he couldn't help but breathe in her scent, a mixture of lavender, coffee and vanilla. It was obvious where the coffee smell originated but the vanilla and lavender he was hoping to explore on the Saturday night if she agreed. She had allowed Tony his moment of sleaziness but she hadn't been able to say no to the DiNozzo grin. It worked every time.

A grin was working its way onto his lips. It was replaced, however, by a shooting pain that filtered its way through his mouth and cheeks causing a grimace to appear in its place. He was getting frustrated not only at the fact that he couldn't see but also the fact that he couldn't reach his hands to his face to inspect the damage.

Then he heard the noise; a gut-wrenching high-pitched metal on metal sound that reverberated down his spine as it came to a halt with a click and some shallow breathing. Tony felt like he was being watched, no, scratch that – he _knew_ he was.

Twisting his head in an upward motion and favoring towards the right so his chin was resting on his shoulder, Tony quickly realized that the movement was not only pointless but painful. Holding onto the scream of agony that he had felt rise towards his larynx, he soon discovered that he had no hope in seeing the face that lay witness to his shattered body. He knew his body was not all in one piece as the movement from twisting towards the sound had caused what Tony was sure to be scab that had been ripped from his back, causing him to feel the warm ooze of his own blood trail down his shoulder. Tony rolled back into his original position, hoping that the blood flow would stop with the pressure his body was placing on it.

"Hey!" Tony yelled at the presence in the hope that it wasn't his attacker, feeling disappointed when all he received in return was silence. Tony knew that the person or people were still there because he could still hear the shallow breathing that indicated excitement and ecstasy. He could feel the insane lust that was emanating from the voyeur and Tony had a sudden urge to throw up. Taking control of his senses, Tony tried to get any information about his condition or his whereabouts so that if the opportunity did arise, distant smells, an incoherent sound, all these things would be a start in telling Gibbs where to begin looking for him. Smiling inwardly at the thought of being rescued, Tony was lulled back into exhaustion and the thought that Gibbs would find him.

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Gibbs' mind was stirring and his gut was churning with the lack of information they had managed to acquire in six hours of one day. Since he found out that the reason Tony hadn't shown up to work on time was actually a valid excuse, Gibbs had downed another three more coffees from the elevating stress he was trying to hide, a goal he was failing to achieve. McGee had been head slapped several times that day and even Abby was making sure not to piss Gibbs off. They had managed to collect all the footage from the security cameras but that was almost seventy-two hours worth of information from six different cameras. Even with Abby and Ziva watching and sorting through the footage, it was still slow going. They wanted to be sure that they hadn't missed an entire speck of information that may help in their search for Tony. After Gibbs had left at 23:00 hours on the Friday, tying up any left over paper work from the Bingle's case, it was discovered that nothing out of the ordinary had happened until Sunday morning when the cameras had been off for maintenance. They had only been offline for an hour and it had been the early hours of the morning. Tony was not renowned for his early rising abilities, especially if he did have that date that he had been bragging about on Friday afternoon after lunch.

Abby was still running the one lax print that they had managed to pull off Tim's camera but it was of very poor quality and they were running it in the hope that it might lead them that little bit closer to where Tony would be. The images from the elevator had been uploaded and scrutinized for any clue as to who may have wanted to hurt Tony as much as they had to witness it in Technicolor. Copies had been made and sent down to Ducky to establish whether the wounds that Tony had received were superficial or actually something to worry about. Gibbs had asked a lot of his friend to look at the pictures but Ducky had stoically agreed to do it, knowing that any information that he could pull from those photographs would imminently lead to Tony's attacker and hopefully even a motive. At the very least it would allow his mind to try and treat this as another missing person's case, regardless of how personal the subject matter may be.

Up in the bullpen, Gibbs had McGee tracing Tony's movements over the weekend, tracking any information they could about him from his cell phone records and bank transactions. They had established that Tony had indeed taken his date out on the Saturday night to an expensive and exclusive Italian restaurant on the other side of the city. The last movement that his credit card had seen was the Taxi Company that had dropped Tony to his final destination in the early hours of Sunday morning. McGee quickly scribbled down the name and contact phone number of the taxi driver that took the job and quickly went to call Gibbs only to discover that his phone had just started to ring.

"McGee! What do you got? And it better be good or you'll feel the head slap from down here!"

"I just got a lead boss. Going through Tony's credit card movements, he caught a taxi early on Sunday morning after his rendezvous with the date he was telling us about on Friday."

"And…" Gibbs voice was filled with exhaustion and a lack of patience.

"And," McGee continued, "I was just about to call you to see if you wanted me to meet you in the parking garage to go and interview the driver."

"Alrighty then, let's go," and with that McGee had been cut off from the Head Field Agent to the continuous beep of a disconnected call.

Tim grabbed all of his gear together and headed for the main elevator, stopping about three feet away from it as visions of Tony's sliced face appeared in his mind's eye.

"Right, other elevator," he mumbled to himself, thinking on the way through to pick up his camera. He unlocked the bottom draw in his desk and picked up the camera from its depths, pausing slightly to notice the idiosyncrasy that lay in it. His camera was down in Abby's lab, wasn't it? Looking at the bottom of the camera, Tim noticed a small smudge of blood in the shape of a finger print around the area where the memory card went. Tim's thoughts were interrupted by the vibration at his hip, and he absently picked up the call without checking who it was.

"McGee! What the hell is taking you so long?"

"Boss, I think I may have another lead here." Tim could almost hear the cogs working in Gibbs mind trying to evaluate which chain of information was more important.

"What is it McGee?"

"Well, you know how we took my camera down to Abby's lab this morning to process it for prints; I don't think it was my camera. Come to think of it, the camera that I picked up wasn't in my draw where I always lock it up. It was on my desk." Tim was talking mainly to himself trying to figure out what the hell was going on knowing full well that Gibbs was on the other end of the line, attempting to be patient but failing miserably.

"Well, it's your call Tim. What do you think we should do?"

"I think…" He paused trying to search his brain for answers.

"I think that you should take Ziva with you to question the taxi driver and I'll get Abby up here with me to help me collect the evidence from the bullpen. I think we may have missed an important aspect of the crime Boss. Maybe it did start here. Abby and I will have to do some more elimination work."

"Right then, what are you waiting for. Call Abby and get Ziva to come and meet me at the car." With that the familiar click that he had come to associate with his Boss sounded down the phone. A smile crept across his face as he thought that he had inadvertently got two leads by himself. As he pulled himself into focus, Tim pressed the extension number for the lab downstairs.

"Abby Sciuto's lab, you're on the air!" Tim rolled his eyes and wondered to himself if Abby had been keeping up with Gibbs intake of caffeine due to the stress of the situation.

"Abby, it's me; put me on speaker phone so I can talk to Ziva as well." His ears were met with blaring music and the hollow sound that accompanied the hands free option on any phone.

"Ziva, Gibbs wants you to meet him at the car to go with him to question the taxi driver."

The Israeli's voice echoed down the line, "Why aren't you going, McGee. It was your lead."

"I've got some more work to do up here in the bullpen which Abby is going to help me with."

"I am?" Ziva and Abby's eyes met across the short distance they were standing. "What about the security footage? We've still got another eight hours to process yet."

"I believe that can wait, Abby. There are some things up here that we need to get sorted out. I need a fingerprinting kit and a whole heap of evidence bags."

"You mean I get to process my own crime scene?" Tim could almost hear the excitement resonating out of Abby's pigtails. "I'll be up there in a jiffy!"

"I will go and help Gibbs, McGee."

"Hey Ziva, could you take me off speaker for a tick."

A click was heard and the more intimate sound of Ziva's voice filtered through to his ears. "Is everything alright, McGee?"

"Well… I mean, ah…"

"Come on McGee, I haven't got all day."

"You don't think that Tony's, ah…" Tim shut his eyes at how pathetic he sounded to the Moussad Officer. He couldn't get the image of Tony out of his head and he felt guilty that he hadn't even considered thinking about the Senior Field Agent over the weekend that had been.

"McGee, Gibbs would let us know if he thought Tony was dead, correct? If anyone would know it would be him."

"I know that Ziva, but… but what if Gibbs is, well, you know, having an off day."

"An off day?" Ziva did not quite understand what McGee was saying but tried to act as though she did.

"Tim, Tony is not dead. Gibbs would be more grumpy, yes? Also, if Gibbs thought that Tony was dead, there would be no way that he would only be drinking coffee."

Tim's face actually managed a smile. He didn't know how she did it, but for the first time since that morning, Tim had actually grinned. There was only one other person that had that ability with him. Obviously Tony was starting to rub off on her.

"Thanks, Ziva."

"Not a problem at all, McGee."

The click that was heard was not a slam or a sign of impatience, just a symbol that they had work to do. They had to find Tony and they had no idea where to start looking for him. They also however, needed to know who would want to hurt him in such a manner. Tim shuddered at the thought of Tony looking so broken. He was not used to seeing Tony in any other context than the happy-go-lucky guy that he was. Tony had seen bad times but he had always bounced back, never letting the world get in his way. But what if it did get him down? What if this was the final straw? Tony was strong mentally but what if he gave up and they never knew? What if they never found him?

Tim frowned at his thought process. Normally he never gave up on Tony. He couldn't help but wonder why this time was so different. The elevator leading from the lab indicated that Abby was about to arrive. Tim forced all of his questions about Tony out of his head so that he and Abby could focus on getting more facts as to where he could be.

*********

In the middle of nowhere, somewhere around dusk, a blood curdling scream could be heard but only the wolves responded with howls, acknowledging the pain that escaped into the night.

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_***insert evil grin here* lol - Please let me know your thoughts, I'm not too sure about the middle part. I hope that all made sense to you. :S**_


	4. Pain

_**A/N: I have to thank you all for being so patient with me. I know a lot of you have been waiting expectantly for this chapter and I am actually overwhelmed at the amount of Traffic I have been getting even though I have not posted for nearly over a month! This chapter really did do me over but to make up for it - it is officially the longest chapter i have ever written so I hope you all enjoy.**_

_**BIG THANKS again to crockettsgirl who always is willing to lend a hand even though she has a massive amount on her reading plate!**_

_****WARNING****_

_**Graphic description of torture of a Major character! I have been debating whether I need to change the rating or not. I am going to leave it as is for the moment but if you feel that I should up it, please let me know and I will gladly comply :) **_

_**Thanks also to all the lovely reviews I have been recieving and also to all the alerts and Faves this story is also getting! It makes my heart smile :D Anyways... enough of the rambling...

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**Previously on Inside Job:**

**In the middle of nowhere, somewhere around dusk, a blood curdling scream could be heard but only the wolves responded with howls, acknowledging the pain that escaped into the night.**

_**Chapter 4: Pain**_

"WHAT THE _HELL_ DO YOU WANT WITH ME?"

Tony gritted his teeth as the point of the knife became more deeply imbedded into his left shoulder. He had been past the point of exhaustion given the amount of cuts and bruises that he suspected were scattered all over his body. He had fallen asleep, a mistake he was not about to make again any time soon. He had let his guard down. Without his knowledge, the psychopath had snuck into his room. The intruder had woken him by pushing a pin-pointed blade through the tendons, muscle and tissue that lay under the skin which caused a scorching sensation that was vocalized in a scream of agony. Tony would even hazard a guess that no one would be near their location given that his attacker had made no effort to muffle the noise that had escaped his lips. He winced as he thought to himself – he was in the boondocks.

Tony heard the knife pierce the mattress below him. His eye's would have been open wide with terror if they were able. Realization dawned on him that the knife had gone straight through his shoulder, unleashing what ever form of damage imaginable to his joint. His voice again betrayed him as the blade was twisted and moved, causing the suffering to start again. The assailant, Tony knew, was definitely male, no woman would have the strength to go through muscle like that. It had occurred to Tony that this monster would have to of had medical training in order to torture in this way and not hit any section of his skeleton. They certainly knew what they were doing in order to inflict maximum pain and to avoid killing their captive immediately. It showed a lot of restraint as well as planning, Tony eerily considered.

Tony's swollen eyes moved unwillingly as he realized that this person may not have only done this to another person before but that they were torturing him for some reason. That particular reason had yet to rear its ugly head. He hadn't yet been asked any questions so it wasn't for information or there wasn't any indication of it anyway. The other option, the one that he feared, was that he had done something to this person. Had he caused them torment or mental anguish, arrested them at some time of his career? If his gut was correct and he was being tortured for the second reason, the scary thought traversed through his mind. Since this person, no, not person, since this brute knew what he was doing, Tony realized that this pointless torture could go on for months – years even.

The blade was pulled from the site of the wound it had created and Tony could feel pressure being applied with a piece of cloth, assumedly gauze. He winced at the unbearable amount of pressure. The assailant was going to repair the damage so that he would stay alive longer. He then heard the sound of surgical tape becoming separated from its roll. Tony felt his injured shoulder being forcibly moved upwards, probably, he thought, to inspect the impact on the other side of his joint. Tony could also feel the hot breath of his attacker gliding across the skin of his neck. They were coming in short, sharp but deep bursts suggesting, depicting, and almost illustrating the absolute pleasure that this psycho felt by the torture and outcome of his work. Tony felt the bile burn the back of his throat as he forced it back down into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. He could feel the gravelly and scratchy texture of the calloused hands as their fingers rolled over the now tacky blood that had congealed, clinging loosely to his back. He could feel the warmth leaving him as some of his own blood trailed down as gravity pulled it through the hairs on his chest, the direction – slowly down and across.

The perpetrator's fingers caressed the exit wound like a lover would run their fingers down their partner's cheek. There was insanity in what he was thinking but Tony believed that causing pain was better than sex for this guy. He was proven right when a second moan, deep and dark, escaped the other man's lips, shallow enough to indicate that he was no where near the orgasmic ecstasy that would accompany his final act – more than likely Tony's own demise. A violent shudder involuntarily left Tony's body, caused by the minimal blood loss and the fact that he was completely at the mercy of this mad man. Tony knew this was going to take a long time and didn't relish the thought. This guy liked his torture to be slow, watch the reactions of his victims with each planned step. Again the analogy of sex entered Tony's mind, this was foreplay and that could go one for a time until the captor needed that release. This sickened Tony, but at least it would buy him some time. Tony silently prayed that in the time that was bought would allow Gibbs to figure out where he was. He needed to be rescued before that borrowed time came to a climax- the kill.

*********

Gibbs foot pressed harder on the accelerator as the memory sliced his brain of the vulnerability that his second in command displayed in the photograph they had found. Gibbs remembered the hollowness of the usually vivid eyes and that image alone spurred him onwards, faster down the Anacostia Freeway. He drove much faster and reckless than usual causing Ziva to reluctantly grasp the dashboard a little. The afternoon shifts for most of the central businesses had started moving out into the cool, crisp afternoon the day had become. The problem was that everyone had the same idea at the same time. Needless to say, it wasn't long until even the lead foot of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs had to be taken off the accelerator and consistently placed on the brake. Gibbs became even more frustrated by the traffic which eventually gave into the usual crawl of rush hour clogging the highways in Washington

Ziva, who was still unconsciously gripping the dash board, was lost in thought as she absently stared at the commotion sitting beside her on the other side of the glass. She didn't take in anything of what was happening, her thoughts falling onto her weekend that had just passed her by.

She had gone for an extra long run on Sunday morning, bright and early enough that the cool wind kissed colour into her cheeks and the breath that escaped her lips was floating as cloud in front of her. The orange beanie that Roy had given her was stuck firmly into place on top of her head, her curled ponytail swaying loosely with the movement of each step, peeking out below it. The escape from the world was welcome and she reveled in the silence of the morning as even the birds seemed to want to sleep in on the dreary day. She never thought of Tony during that run, well, not in enough detail to call him randomly at six on a Sunday morning to see how things were. They didn't have that sort of relationship. Their friendship did not consist of friendly chit-chat over a hollow phone line. They merely thrived on having the other person in the room with them, bouncing ideas off of one another and simply enjoying their partner's company, nothing more, nothing less.

OK, maybe she had given a bit of thought to Tony's doings over the last few days although she would never admit that to him. She especially wondered whether – Marissa, was it – had actually lived up to the standard that Tony was obviously so used to. Ziva physically shook her head of the thoughts of the possible corruption that may have occurred in Tony's bedroom on the Saturday night. The Sunday morning would have definitely been a wake up call for the girl to find out that she was just a usual pursuit of the charming Federal Agent. Wait, had she just thought that Tony was charming? Obviously the stress of not being able to locate her partner had clouded her judgment as to what Tony really was like. All right, so clearly Tony's actions had streamed their way into Ziva's thoughts a bit more than was warranted, but maybe that was just her gut churning over the fact that Tony was missing. Yes, that was it. She was worried about Tony's whereabouts now, not what he had done over the course of his weekend. If she had only called him, would all of the team's Monday been different?

Ziva was brought back to reality by the fact that it was suddenly too quiet in the car. Even with the horns of the surrounding traffic, it felt odd to be in the car without Tony's incessant ramblings. His energy was missing, his eagerness to catch the bad guys, even his ability to reference everything that happened in their lives to one of his stupid movies. Ziva smiled. Tony would have just said, _you know, this traffic thing never happened in Speed._

After having finally maneuvered through the disaster that was the Anacostia Freeway, Gibbs forcefully made his way through the quieter streets of Metropolita trying to dissect through the traffic to the Dulles Airport Taxi Building. The business seemed to be in strange company, out on the outskirts, it was surrounded by residential, industrial and parkland. It was in a cul-de-sac and seemed to ooze sleaziness. Fort Mahan Park was only a stone's throw away and only a short skip from there was the freeway. All of the other businesses were done for the day, the area having closed up shop probably two hours prior.

Gibbs stepped out of the 2009 issue Mustang and made his way over to the main door of the dilapidated cement warehouse. Ziva followed her boss, covering his six. Gibbs noticed that there was no main entry door, but the front of the building had a huge aluminum garage door. Gibbs banged with strong conviction, each knock accentuating the frustration he was feeling. To him it seemed like they hadn't achieved much all day. Gibbs was taken aback when the door started to roll open instantaneously with what would have been the sixth knock on it. He realized that his desperation to find Tony was quickly spiraling into an intense impatience that he was struggling to hide.

Regarding the male occupant that had answered the knock on their business door, Gibbs folded out and forced into the face of the balding, overweight, and greasy individual, his federal badge. He failed to hide his annoyance when the man opposite him, took a slight step backwards and grabbed the corner of his badge with oil soaked hands.

"N.C.I.S?" The man's voice was thick with a Brooklyn accent, however the longer pronunciation of the letter I suggested that he had been in Washington for a while. Gibbs was really hoping that he wasn't going to have to explain the acronym, but he went along with the formality anyway.

"Yeah, it stands for Naval…"

"…Criminal Investigative Service. Yeah I know, Navy Cops. My daughter is in love with the television show, especially that good looking one, Michael something-or-other. I bet it's nothing like the real life version though?"

Gibbs stared blankly at the grease monkey as Ziva failed to hide a smile. Even _she_ had heard that they had a television show based on the antics of four Federal Agents that investigated crimes of the Naval persuasion. She had to agree though, that the daughter definitely had good taste in good looking actors. She knew he was no George Clooney, but he was quite a debonair actor in his own right. Gibbs just wondered why people would want to watch a show about their jobs. It didn't sound extremely entertaining to him. Give him a boat to work on any day.

Re-focusing on their task at hand, Gibbs introduced himself and Ziva, stating that they were looking to speak to one of the cab drivers that had taken the fare from Tony on this past Saturday night. The oil covered man, whose name was Maurice, smiled at the two Federal Agents and proclaimed,

"Ah, you're talking to the wrong guy here. You need to speak to Vinnie. He's the one that keeps tabs on that kind of stuff. Hang on… HEY VINNIE…" Maurice yelled loudly.

Gibbs and Ziva turned to face each other as they inwardly smirked at the lack of sophistication displayed by the yelling man.

A voice echoed through the pile of taxies parked within the walls and bounced off in a thick, Italian accent.

"Hey-a Maurice! We-a bought-a those phones to stop the yelling-a. Why don't you-a put-a them to good use-a, ok?"

Gibbs and Ziva half-ran over to meet up with whom they were sure was the dispatcher for the taxi call outs. Shoving their badges into the face of the six foot man, the profiler in Gibbs took in a quick glance to take in the appearance of the guy in front of him. The man was overweight but no where near as much as the Maurice character who had assaulted them with his Brooklyn accent and his over-hanging stomach at the front of the business. Vinnie was tall and stocky but also seemed to have the presence of a gentle being behind those massive hands of his. His shirt had become un-tucked with the movement of meeting up with the agents and also the fact that the pale blue shirt was too short for the length of his body. The pair of pants that he wore were of a grey colour and could almost pass as a nice pair except for the lingering presence of oil stains and greasy hand marks up the side of them. His hair was thinning and slicked back with copious amounts of hair product in an effort to hide the balding spot that was appearing on the back of his head. The almost business look was confused by the presence of some very well worn running shoes that were ready for retirement. The man extended his hand to shake in pleasantries but was met with the intense gaze of a blue-eyed smartly dressed Federal Agent. The hand was quickly retracted to hide any discomfort.

"What can we-a do for these-a Federalis? Agents-a Gibbs and Day-vid." The mispronunciation was evident but misguided.

"Officer Da-veed," Gibbs offered in return merely as a courtesy to his co-worker than the formality it was framed in. He continued, "We need to ask you some questions regarding a fare that your business picked up on Saturday night. Credit card details linked us back here. We're looking to speak to the driver if we could?"

During the conversation, Vinnie had begun moving towards the back of the building where a tiny and unkempt office sat. The office had partitions of fibro and glass allowing for minimal privacy, but also it gave some protection against the sound of the mechanics repairing the taxies.

"We had about forty-a cabs out and running-a on Saturday-a night. It doesn't seem like-a much but that was all we-a could spare due to the few-a people that are-a out with-a suspected swine flu." Vinnie shook his head at the thought of the disease but trundled through his papers until he found what he was trying to locate. An exclamation of achievement indicated that he had found what he had been looking for.

"What was-a this person's-a name?"

"Anthony DiNozzo."

"Ah, Italiano, yes?"

"Not when you look at him but _we_ can't seem to shut him up." Gibbs smiled at the small joke that he had made at his missing agent's expense. He knew full well that Tony wouldn't have minded the banter that was going on between the two men. Ziva listened to the conversation, also smiling slightly at Gibbs' remark, but also making sure to keep an eye out for anything suspicious that could be happening around them. Both of the agents failed to notice the look of interest that peaked in the Italian's demeanor at the slip up that had been made – they were looking for one of their own.

"DiNozzo, DiNozzo, DiNozzo, DiNozzo." Vinnie kept repeating the name as though doing it would help him find the information faster.

After a couple of minutes, Vinnie produced the receipt that held Tony's signature and the cost of the fare, forty-two dollars and thirty-six cents.

"Where was the drop-off do you know?"

"You'd-a probably be better off asking-a the driver, Costa Taylor. He's due to-a start in about fifteen-a minuti if you care to wait."

Gibbs nodded his head and went to have a quick look around with Ziva, biding their time so as to pounce when Taylor came into begin work.

*********

Abby and Tim had managed to dust and finger-print all of the desks in the bullpen, focusing mainly on his and Tony's desks. They had accumulated nearly twenty good finger prints, hoping that one of them would put them on a path closer to finding Tony. Abby couldn't help letting her mind wander, trying to think of where he might be and who would want to hurt him. She hadn't yet seen the photos but had heard that they extremely graphic. She had seen the look of hurt that had emanated from Tim once he had reached her lab, Abby felt in her heart that she wouldn't be able to look at those photos until she knew that Tony was safe.

"Done! I think…" Tim's confidence wavered slightly trying to think of something that may have missed. This was due to the combination of running his own crime scene and the little voice inside his head. That voice always backed him up, although he would never admit to Tony that _his_ voice always resonated between his ears.

_Probie!_

Tim subconsciously jerked forward as the imaginary hand hit the back of his head. Abby watched in curiosity at the quiet yet animated McGee in front of her. She thought she saw Tim's lips moving.

_Yes Tony?_

_You done yet?_

_I-I'm not sure._

_Oh look at the little Probie; he's all McNervous that he has forgotten something._

_Shut up Tony!_

_Alright then Probie – talk to me? What is it that is giving you so much grief?_

_What? Besides the fact you're missing and we may have screwed up the effort to find you because we thought that you wouldn't have been here on a weekend off._

_Aw Probie I'm touched! You're worried about me?_

_Tony – Just tell me where you are!_

_Well, you see now McGoo, there in lays the problem. I am now an official figment of your own imagination. You're going to have to work this out on your own. You can do it Tim! I wouldn't want anyone else trying to locate me. Well maybe the Boss, but if he were injured or mutilated in some horrific accident…_

_TONY!!!_

_Right! You would be it Probster!_

Tim looked across to see Tony standing in the bullpen. His smile was lopsided and the bruises were evident across his face, hiding the pain that he was sure was behind those eyes. Tim frowned at the almost real hallucination in front of him. He and Tony didn't always agree on some things but to see Tony in pain like this – well, it was nearly gut-wrenching. He refocused his eyes in the direction where he had been looking at Tony to see the edge of Tony's desk. How on earth had they missed that?

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_**A/N For those of you that are worried - I HAVE NOT, I REPEAT, I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON FATHER AND SON! I am trying my darndest to make it the best it can be... once again your patience is appreciated and I love you all for taking a little time out of your day to read (and in some cases re-read my stories)**_


	5. Positively Negative

_**A/N Hey guys, here it is, the more questions to add to your collection and to all the new comers and alerters and reviewers, I'm glad you're enjoying my story. Oh and my chapters are getting longer and longer. If you are getting worried, I will keep you guys updated on my profile.  
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_**WARNING: Major Tony whump in this one, well, no more than the other chapters :P  
**_

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Chapter 5: Positively Negative**

Tim made his way over to his partner's desk, shaking his head slightly to remove Tony's beaten image from his mind. Obviously the doubt of finding Tony alive was seeping into Tim's core but he couldn't focus on that. He had to get his head on right and he had to find answers to all the questions that were plaguing the team regarding Tony. They had to find him. _No!_ They would find him. The question was, however, would he be alive when they did?

Tim crouched down so that his eyes were level with the top of Tony's desk. Abby, still keeping a close eye on Tim, meandered behind him, curious to find what he was looking at.

"Abby?"

"Yes, Tim?"

McGee nearly jumped four feet into the air. He hadn't realized that she was standing right behind him when he had asked the question. Once his feet had landed back on the ground and he had a sense of equilibrium about him, he turned to gaze into the questioning eyes of the forensics specialist having to step back slightly to allow himself to focus.

"Did you notice this?"

"Notice what Tim?"

"Did you notice these two spots on the corner of Tony's desk?"

Abby slit her eyes at Tim, as though she was trying to figure out a clue from Tim's demeanor. Regarding that McGee was actually not turning into some crazy person that talked to themselves, Abby followed the path of his latex covered finger onto the edge of the simple and sturdy work station. On the corner of Tony's desk, the edge closest to the centre of the bullpen, sat two red spots, similar in size and shape. The red glistened in the afternoon light that was filtering through the massive, locked windows of NCIS headquarters. Tim watched Abby closely as she neared the evidence, eying it to try and figure out its scientific composition.

"Do you think that it's ink?"

Tim was met with a wide eyed reaction as Abby considered the possibility of it being ink. Why was the ink on the edge of the desk in droplets? It didn't make any sense.

"Tim? Do you honestly believe that during the middle of a criminal investigation, especially a criminal investigation that involved a very, _very_, handsome…" Tim's eyebrows rose with the observation, "…man, would warrant two droplets of ink on the missing person's desk?"

Tim opened his mouth to rebut but was cut off by another session of Abby's rambling.

"And if it were ink, why would it be placed on the opposite side of all of Tony's computer equipment? I do not think for a moment that this is ink, McGee!"

Tim stared back at the official glare that Abby was giving him. This one said 'Don't argue with me, you know I'm right.' Instead of opening his mouth to argue her point, Tim reached down into his bag filled with the tools required to gather evidence and pulled out two sachets and two cotton buds.

"We'll settle this then."

Gently touching both samples to test them in the kit that identifies body fluid, McGee waited patiently to prove, albeit somewhat regretfully, that Abby was correct in her assumption. Tim ignored the massive smirk displayed across Abby's face when the first sample turned a luminescent blue, thus proving that it was body fluid, more than likely blood. However the doubt quickly disappeared when the second sample failed to respond to the scientific examination.

The look on Abby's face was priceless, her mouth agape at the fact that it wasn't only blood on Tony's desk. She wasn't completely wrong, however, that also meant that she hadn't been completely right either. Who in their right mind would place a drop of red ink next to a perfectly good blood sample?

Tim vaguely heard the words escape Abby's lips, the look of disbelief still evident. She accompanied the look with a string of words that were spoken so fast, they could have been a single word exclamation, "Well what do you know?"

Tim ignored the rhetorical question to look behind Abby. He was focused on the image that stood behind her. The mirage's demeanor was relaxed with their arms folded in front of their chest, one shoulder leant against the partition that housed all of DiNozzo's photos. The grin of his Senior Field Agent beamed in Tim's direction. A second smile from Tim's own lips reacted to the words he heard the man speak:

_Good job, McGee!_

************

Tony was trying his best to avoid falling asleep. He wasn't sure what they wanted with him or why it had been him that they had grabbed. Questions filled his mind as he tried to adjust himself to be more comfortable but that was hard, what with his throbbing and pulsating shoulder, the cut that was stinging across his back, probably infected, and the fact that his eyes were still so swollen that he had no clue as to what his injuries were let alone the extent. His hands were still tied up and to top it all off, he couldn't remember the last time he went to the bathroom.

"I need to use the head! Anyone? I…"

Tony's yelling was interrupted by the metal on metal screech that led Tony to believe that he was not alone again. Using a softer tone, Tony simply restated his position of needing to use the bathroom. Feeling movement in the restraints attached to his wrists, Tony felt a slight feeling of relief to at least be able to study the damage that had been caused to his face. Reaching his hand up, he found that the surrounding skin about his eyes was immensely swollen but he could feel slight scabs that had formed. It didn't make any sense. If there was a cut there why were they so swollen? It then dawned on him. The cuts had been with a dirty knife, the cuts were infected. He went to search the rest of his face but both of his arms were pulled behind his back and they were held together.

"Well this is going to make going to the head very interesting," Tony said mainly to himself as an observation. He was given the notion that his captor didn't like the response because across a pain riddled face, the familiar shape and cold feel of a gun barrel was dragged slowly down the side of his face. The metal scraped away some of the scabs that had certainly formed from the torture he could not remember receiving. He could now feel the presence of his subjugator behind him, his breath falling onto the nape of his neck and onto the swollen and bare skin of Tony's back. Tony took in a sharp breath as he involuntarily gave up information into how much pain he was definitely feeling. The gun had been rubbed against the slash across his back after being dragged down his neck line. Tony could feel the maniacal grin forming at his back as the muzzle of the gun was pushed harder into the more sensitive and painful spot.

The small amount of pressure that was applied told Tony to start walking. His hands were still held behind his back by what Tony had figured out to be lengths of chain due to the rattle they made with each movement and the clinking noises they made when they hit the other piece. The two pieces were held tightly and the strain really enforced the burning sensation in his injured shoulder.

After slowly walking forward for about twenty steps, Tony heard the creak of another door being opened. There was no light in this room from what he could make out except for what was coming in from behind him. Tony pulled at his right arm, indicating without words that he wanted his functioning limb to help him with his business.

After completing the task of going to the bathroom, Tony felt his right hand being pulled back into its original position with a tug of the chain that was attached to it. Tony didn't argue or fight back knowing it would do him more harm than good, so he complied with the request. Also the gun that was wavering at his back also told him that this guy had a hair trigger and that he was not going to win if he tried anything. No, if Tony was going to escape, he would have to think of a plan, thoroughly and without room for failure.

************

Ziva sat patiently but uncomfortably in the plastic molded chair she had been offered. The dispatcher's office, Vinnie's office, was the only place in the Taxi rank that offered some type of peace and quiet. The muffled sounds of air guns and ratchets still filtered through the thin walls of the paper clad room, though. She did not like waiting. Waiting didn't get them any closer to finding her partner and the frustration she was feeling was portrayed in Gibbs pacing across the minimal space that was left in the office.

Gibbs could not sit. He was too agitated and needed to be getting answers from Costa Taylor rather than wasting time. Tony was injured. He was probably still getting tortured. Gibbs had to find out why and he had to stop it. He needed to be moving forward instead of standing still. Costa Taylor could not get here soon enough.

Ziva understood Gibbs frustration involving this case. Tony was almost like a son to him and given that Gibbs had been angry with Tony for not showing up for work rather than worried for Tony's safety, that guilt was probably driving Gibbs up the hall.

_It's up the wall, Zee-vah!_

Tony's voice crept into her head as a small smile made its way upon her face, brief as it may have been. She shook her head absently as she realized how many times she had purposefully screwed up particular idioms when talking to him. It had a main purpose, to annoy Tony. He annoyed her with spitballs and going through her private property, she annoyed him by mispronouncing and confusing the English language. She knew, though, that Tony needed to correct her. It made him feel wanted, as though she would die if she could not speak the language properly. She was also aware that he would never admit that to her, or anyone else, for that matter.

Gibbs unconsciously refused to stand still. He wasn't renown for waiting for information when a case was impersonal but the fact that it was one of his own missing, that did not help matters much either. In fact, considering that it was Tony missing, Gibbs' patience had decreased so exponentially that he didn't even think he had the ability to wait anymore.

Gibbs' mind wandered to thoughts of the previous day. His weekend had been a quiet one. He had not done anything out of the ordinary except sand and paint the frame of a new boat. The only time Gibbs had thought about Tony was when he was startled awake from a dream he had early Sunday morning. He had awoken abruptly and banged his head on the frame of the wooden skeleton. He couldn't remember much from the dream, just that he had heard Tony's voice calling his name. He remembered reading his watch and it read 0306. It had been too early to consider doing anything and it was definitely too late to start dulling his senses back into oblivion with his bourbon. Instead, he clambered his way to his bedroom and caught a couple more hours of sleep, Tony never entered his mind until he got to work on Monday.

Both of the Federal Agents were interrupted out of their thoughts by the screeching brakes of the new cab that had pulled into the building. Gibbs had nearly forgotten to open the door to the office in his rush to get to the latest arrival. Ziva had stood up and practically ran to catch up with Gibbs, who was halfway across the building floor, the military pace in his stride an illustration of the eagerness for Gibbs to get answers pertaining to his missing agent.

Ziva had quickly caught up with the lead agent. Costa Taylor, though, had noticed their presence, panic displayed across his face. Taylor jumped back into his cab and threw the gears into reverse. The squeal of spinning tires was made to sound louder by the internal cavity of the building. The taxi sped out of the infrastructure only to be stopped by the crunch and mangled sound of metal hitting metal and glass cracking. That meant that Taylor had hit something. That something just happened to be the NCIS Mustang that had been parked out on the road. Luckily for Gibbs the damage was only minimal so that the paperwork that Tony would be filing would be small when he returned.

Gibbs and Ziva lined their guns on their target, Gibbs at the driver side window of the car, Ziva at the rear.

"Costa Taylor, get your hands off the wheel!" Gibbs ordered the employee to comply.

"We only want to talk to you."

Costa had a small gash above his right eye from where his head hit the steering wheel during the accident. He felt slightly groggy and the person yelling at him while holding a gun at his temple was not helping the headache that was forming. A groan escaped the Hispanic man's lips, either from the minimal pain he was in or the fact that he had just hit another vehicle. Also the fact that those two agents currently holding their work-issued pistols in line with his head wasn't helping his case either.

"Why do you think he did _that_ Gibbs?" The smirk on Ziva's face showed the relief that the team may finally have something to move forward with.

"Well, I don't know Ziva but we're going to have a whole lot of fun finding out down back home. Take him to interrogation."

Ziva read the man his Miranda Rights. The protests coming out from the middle-aged, olive-skinned man were ignored as Ziva placed the cuffs around the suspect's wrists, adding a little more punch to closing the gap of the metallic bracelets.

"It would be my pleasure!"

Ziva grabbed hold of the man's suede jacket and forced him towards the back seat of the NCIS car. After placing the perpetrator in there, Ziva was startled by the thought that entered her mind. Already in the back seat lay Tony's body. His face was pale and his eyes withdrawn. His body sat limply up against the side of rear driver door, blood pooling around the spot where he was slumped. Swallowing hard, she forced the image from her mind, completely unaware that Gibbs had been watching her from beside the taxi.

"Ziva?" Gibbs barked her name to grab her attention.

"I'm … OK, Gibbs. I thought I saw a … rat in the car."

Taylor turned his head quickly in the direction of the Moussad Officer.

"A rat? You think you saw a rat???"

Taylor tried desperately to escape from the clutches of the cuffs and push past Ziva only to be forced back down by the gruff hand of Special Agent Gibbs. Gibbs glanced briefly at Ziva, knowing that she was keeping something back but knew not to push the subject any further. Taylor in his tirade of trying to escape was still mumbling quite loudly about refusing to be in a car with a diseased, filthy piece of vermin. With that last statement, Gibbs laid his hand on the left side of the hysterical man, his ice blue eyes locking with Taylor's.

"I think she was talking about you."

The back door was slammed shut as the muffled speech was halted by the thick glass that was placed between them and Taylor.

Oh yeah, he definitely knew something.

************

Abby was down in her lab, all of her little guys dissecting and matching up the components of all the evidence that she and Tim had catalogued in the squad room. Never one to leave any stone unturned, Abby decided to be proactive and finish going through the last of the security footage that Ziva had collected that morning. Gibbs would want answers when he returned from Metro and she was adamant that she would have them for him. This was Tony they were looking for.

The sun had started to disappear behind the buildings that layered Washington. The orange haze fell meekly through her street level window. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling offered a slight hum, singing to the tune of the motors and fans of her electronics in the room. Abby's lab was missing her music. Abby didn't feel like listening to her beloved CDs at the moment. When she listened to her CDs, it reminded her of clubbing. When she thought about clubbing, she thought about that great little night spot in Central DC. The one she took Tony to the first time they had gone out partying together. Then her thoughts lingered on Tony, her big brother that was there for her when Kate died. Tony had been there to protect her from being Ari's second victim. Tony kept the team together when Gibbs had ran away to Mexico. Tony who strengthened Timmy's character, who took Gibbs head slaps, Ziva's threats, her own hugs. Tony the only person she knew that was able to get the plague and live to tell the story. Abby didn't realize she was crying. Her tears were mixing with the artificial lighting in the building and her need for another Caf-Pow, causing the early stages of a headache to form. This is why she didn't want to listen to her CDs.

Abby sighed. It was going to be a long night.

************

Tony was put back on the dirty mattress in his dank little room. He knew it was the same one because the familiar metal on metal sound echoed with awareness when the door was closed. Tony had a lot of planning to do. He thought that the only way that he had any chance of escape was during a trip to the bathroom. He had only been held by his wrists. It would not be hard to over power _one_ guy who would be startled at Tony's reaction to begin with. He wouldn't be able to handle it if he was here for too much longer. He knew his own limitations although he would never admit to anyone that he had any. He was not good with mass amounts of pain. He could take the small stuff, slices and dices and beltings around the head but as for major injury, he didn't even want to think about that. That was not in his game plan.

Tony wondered when his captors were going to get serious about their task. He knew they were toying with him, using him like a piece of string that was waved in front of a bored kitten. He was bait. Who was he bait for? He had no answers, only more questions.

As if hearing his thoughts, the all-too-familiar screech was heard again and the breaths, shallow and fast, that Tony had come to associate with pain, were in his personal space once again. This time the breaths were accompanied by mumbling, mumbling and the common sound of the click of a safety switch on a gun. Tony's thoughts were racing. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel anything but the pain and the agony of previous beatings. He could, however, hear quite clearly. He could hear the panic rising in the incoherent words of the monster in the room. He could only make out certain words and was trying his best to string them into sentences. There were words such as 'where', 'when' and 'why,' as well as 'don't do it,' 'deserves it' and 'now.' His captor was having an argument. He was having an argument with himself. Tony could make out someone pacing with the shuffling of feet. The back and forth motion of sound that hit his ears, like using the left and right function on a car stereo, caused him to think about his predicament. If Tony didn't calm the guy down, something could happen. _No_, something _would_ happen.

This would not end nicely for him. He knew it.

Tony forced the bile back into his stomach once again. The mumbling was getting louder and more understandable.

His captor was losing his mind. He was losing any self control that he may have had.

Tony's thoughts were focused on the sounds around him. He was trying to picture where his captor was, what he was doing.

His captor stopped pacing and the mumbling ceased.

Tony opened his mouth to speak.

His words were lost in the moment.

Silence fell with the explosion that had exited the barrel of the gun.

Tony's eyes shone with tears as an inhumane screech echoed off the walls.

His torturer wore a smile.

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_**A/N: not happy with the ending of this chapter, like how I ended it, just not how I worded it so if you have any ideas just review or PM and I'll see if I can make it any better :D Thanks in advance!**_


	6. Lost

_**Just so you all know (it's stated in the story anyway) but the time lines are out of sync. I had to have a non Tony chapter so the team could catch up to where the perpetrator is at. There should be some Tony whump in the next one - maybe - no promises but there might be. **_

_**Enjoy and let me know what you think :D

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Chapter 6: Lost

A maniacal grin formed on his face. Oh, yes this was definitely going to be worth the wait. The day that Tony DiNozzo would finally meet his match and the day Leroy Jethro Gibbs would remember for the rest of his days. He licked his lips as he saw the mass amounts of blood ooze from his captive. He almost felt like adding a "Hello, Clarice" to finish the picture but he knew that if DiNozzo heard him that his voice would be plain as day and he would be able to identify him. No it was better if he just watched and inflicted the pain. He had nothing left to lose so he may as well enjoy his time while he had anything left.

He still had plenty of time though. Gibbs would not even be close. He was quite pleased with DiNozzo. Most of his other captives had broken or died by now. It had been days since he broke into NCIS looking for something to allow him greater access to the Major Response Team. When he heard the elevator ding, though, he couldn't believe his luck at finding the Senior Field Agent alone and slightly inebriated. It was just too good to pass up. He knew he was going to have to dismantle the security footage. No one would suspect anything to happen at 3am on a Sunday morning. Opportunities didn't come around like this every day and he was never one to laugh at the knock on the door. So here they were; a trained torturer and the man that had caused all of the good things in his life to disappear. Anthony DiNozzo had to pay.

And he has but the debt is not square yet. Only with his final breath will his debt be even.

Then it will be one down, five to go.

************

Once he and Ziva had gotten back to headquarters, Gibbs had told Ziva to throw their guest in interrogation to swelter for a few hours. He had also gone to tell Ziva to process a background check on Costa Taylor but being the good agent that she now was, she had anticipated his request. He was also curious to find out what Tim and Abby had found in the bullpen but he had to make a stop first, realising that although it was now late, Ducky would not go home until he had given him his profile.

Gibbs strolled through the swooshing sound of the Autopsy doors. He noticed an array of photographs laid out on one of Ducky's autopsy tables. The first image was of Tony, the distant shot that showed all of the cuts.

"What have you got for me Duck?"

"Ah, Jethro, I was wondering when you were going to come pay me a visit." Gibbs knew that was a snide remark asking him what took him so long but he didn't offer as much as a breath to Ducky's statement. The Scotsman knew what Gibbs was after and so got straight to the point.

"Well after much deliberation, I have managed to work out a profile on our killer."

Gibbs eyes devoured every detail on the photos, blown up for the ME to be able to see every gory aspect. Gibbs actually felt the need to look away, feeling distraught at the sight of Tony in such a vulnerable position. He held strong however. He needed to look at these and remember them when he finally faced Tony's attacker.

"First, Duck, what about Tony?"

Dr. Mallard was not at all surprised that his close friend wanted to know about Tony's injuries first. He had a sneaking suspicion that Gibbs held that boy in a higher esteem than he would publically admit, especially to the Senior Field Agent himself. If Tony only knew how worried Gibbs actually got when he couldn't find him, Tony would have no reason to doubt Gibbs faith in him ever again.

"Ah, well, of course. All of the wounds seem to be superficial. They're deep and methodical to say the least but they were placed in such a manner to suggest it was a planned, or rather, a well rehearsed method of attack.'

'The cuts on Tony's eyes were precise, well placed so that copious amounts of swelling would occur due to sensitivity and softness of the susceptible tissue. It would also have the added benefit of blinding or at least impairing the victim's vision.'

'This suggests that this person likes to travel light, suggested by the fact that they thought a blindfold would be a hindrance to their plan or that it was an after-thought and that the attack was not a planned one."

"What about the other cuts Duck?"

"Well from what I can figure out from the pictures, I believe Tony was first struck across the back. I think there may be a massive and deep wound there. It debilitated our young man. This has led me to believe that Tony was taken by surprise, that maybe the killer…"

Ducky was interrupted by a close up inspection of Gibbs face. Having realized his faux pas, Ducky quickly restarted his statement in haste.

"…That maybe Tony's _attacker_ was already waiting for him in the elevator."

"Thanks, Duck."

"Jethro, that isn't all."

"This person enjoys their work immensely. I think this form of psychosis would be brought upon by the feeling of having lost something. They feel they can regain that loss by what they are doing to their captive. Power seems only part of it. An attack of this type and the place suggest that this may even be a personal vendetta of some sort. Leaving the photos behind to be found suggest that Tony is not the sole target. They are leaving clues behind, maybe to torture someone else." Gibbs eyes rose to meet his colleague's to convey the missing message that both men were thinking – he was meant to find the scene in the elevator. This was put together for him. Whoever had put this together, knew that Tony was a weakness in his link. He had tried to keep them all at a distance but had failed miserably. Whoever was doing this, knew that vital piece of information.

"They may have lost something or someone deeply, Jethro, something that they held onto, something that had kept them going. I do know however, that there is more to this loss than meets the eye."

Gibbs thought back to a time when he had suffered a great deal of loss and the lengths he had gone to seek justice in this world. Flashes of setting up a sniper's rifle on top of a dusty, isolated mound in the middle of the Nevada Desert coursed through his veins. He knew first hand what a person was capable of when personal loss was felt. Gibbs wondered if he had been profiled in the same manner that Ducky had just described.

Gibbs consciousness returned to Ducky's verbal thought process.

'The other thing, Jethro, and I will admit that you may not want to know this, but, if this loss is so strong that they cannot function without it, they may make the sense of power that they feel they have over Tony last for days or weeks, possibly even months or years. Get a fix as it were – almost like a drug habit."

The Medical Examiner took a breath, hoping that it would aid him in allowing the next sentence to leave his mouth. If his thoughts were true, verbalizing it would almost tear the man opposite him apart. Ducky knew that it would never manifest outwardly, knowing his friend like he did. No, what the elder man worried about was his friend's state of mind once the information was out in the open. As had been thought before, Anthony was definitely held in a higher esteem than the rest of Team Gibbs, well, except for, possibly, Abigail. Anthony was the first born child. The first born always wanted to fly but a parent would only allow that when they thought they were ready, be it with a glare or a good old fashioned head slap, Three Stooges style. Oh yes, young Anthony was definitely special but what would it cost Jethro if they were to voice the thoughts that were prominent in the front of everyone's minds – what if this was what finally broke the younger agent?

Ducky hadn't realized that some amount of time had passed since he had spoken his last sentence and that Jethro had been trying to grab his attention for close to five minutes. After he finally locked eye contact with the M.E, Gibbs asked with his eyes for Ducky to continue his train of thought aloud.

Trying to avoid the now locked glare that Gibbs had on him, Ducky fleeted around to the other side of the autopsy table they both stood beside. Ducky was surprised to be closely followed by the ex-marine that could tip-toe through bubble wrap if it were needed. Ducky turned around to be faced once again with the stare of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Ducky sighed; giving his resignation to the fact there was no escaping the truth they would eventually have to face, a look of despair and worry lay in his facial features.

"Tony would be praying for death if it came to that."

The Scottish brogue nearly overlapped the thought as the words had escaped his lips in a whisper but Gibbs had heard it. Piercing blue eyes fell to the ground in a momentary gesture of loss and torment. They were quickly replaced by a look of fire and determination. Gibbs began to almost run out of Autopsy but was stopped but Ducky's yelling that had echoed off the walls of the morgue.

"I know Tony is strong mentally but I believe that this could break him."

Gibbs stopped in his place, listening to the heartfelt blow that was invading his space. He knew he had to hear the doctor out and turned on his heel and walked back slowly towards the man that was releasing the array of hurtful truths.

"This could be his undoing, Jethro. This could be the time that we actually lose him.'

Gibbs took this new found information in hand. He could not imagine Tony as a broken man but thinking about it, it actually wasn't that far from reality. For all of Tony's mucking around and goofing off, he was already a broken man. The difference here was he had been fixed. College had been his niche and now he had a family of sorts here at NCIS, Tony was healed. He was scarred and damaged but Tony had managed to fix whatever it was had needed fixing. The one person that could look after Tony was himself. Gibbs knew though, he knew that if Tony did happen to break again, Gibbs would be there this time to help him pick up the pieces but only if they found him in time.

************

Gibbs strolled into the bullpen to find Ziva on the phone and McGee nowhere in sight. Walking over to Ziva's desk, he placed a cup of hot tea on it, thanking her for a job well done. Ziva looked up at her leader and smiled her gratitude as she watched Gibbs take a sip from the cup of hot brew he had bought for himself. As she went to concentrate on the phone call she was taking, Gibbs re-caught her eye, when his lips had sounded an inaudible question.

"Sorry, what was that Gibbs?" Ziva's hand now cupped over the bottom piece of the telephone handset.

"Where's McGee?"

"He was not here when I got back from processing Taylor. I assume he is with Abby, probably cataloguing any evidence they found here."

"You assume, David?" Gibbs glare was locked on and about ready to fire its missile.

"I will check for you now."

Gibbs, satisfied once he had received the correct answer, strolled out of the bullpen, leaving Ziva alone to her musings.

Ziva connected to the lab, Abby's voice filtering through the receiver. After a short confirmation that McGee was definitely with her, Ziva thanked the friendly demeanor on the other end and started to relay the message to Gibbs, only to find out that she was, once again, alone in the bullpen.

She shook her head and smiled. Gibbs was not renowned for his patience.

************

"What do you got for me, Abs?"

A massive smiled greeted the man as he glided through the doorway. The Caffeine enhanced drink that he held in his hands was quickly swooped out and the straw placed straight in the bright red lips before even a hello escaped. Gibbs smiled at the image, the first smile that he had managed in an entire day. His smile quickly dissipated once he noticed McGee fumbling in the background with a piece of evidence.

"McGee!"

The order echoed through the gadgets and gismos that filled the forensics lab.

"B-Boss? You're back. Did you get the driver?"

Gibbs, never to be confused for a man that talked a lot, strolled up and placed himself in Tim's personal space. Tim leant back a little but his feet held ground, feeling the hot breath escape relaying the unasked question.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well we found some more evidence in the Bullpen, Boss. We found a few hair follicles laying about the place. We've bagged and tagged them. Abs is running them now."

Abby continued the spiel, letting McGee relax a little as Gibbs attention was no longer focused on him.

"Although DNA testing has only recently been catalogued for identification purposes, it would be a billion to one chance if our guy is in the system. Also there are a lot of other factors to consider, the fact that it is a federal building means that all the people that walk through these corridors have been catalogued in the system. This could take a while, Gibbs. There could be hair from half the agents in all of this."

Gibbs interrupted her train of thought.

"How long, Abs?"

"Could be anywhere between an hour to twenty-four, Gibbs. Most of it is going to be elimination work. We're looking for a piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit. It's hard when you've got, like, thirty pieces that you have to rule out first."

Gibbs pressed his thumb, index and middle fingers to his forehead, running them back and forth, massaging the skin to try and alleviate some stress. This was getting them nowhere. The only possibility lied in the hope that the driver had seen something and given that security was the way it is, more than likely he hadn't been allowed past the gate. Gibbs needed answers and he needed them now! They were no closer to finding Tony and after what Ducky had said, Gibbs didn't know how long Tony could hold out for.

Gibbs left the lab after throwing out another cup of brew, slamming his hand on the desk in frustration.

Abby and McGee regarded each other for a moment after they witnessed their leader storm from the room. Neither of them commented on the show of emotion he had displayed, nor did they give voice to the fact that if Gibbs were losing it, after only twenty-four hours, that it may not end up being the happy ending they were hoping for. Both returned to their work, ignoring their thoughts about what Gibbs would be like if Tony wasn't found alive.

************

The sticky red substance had been cleaned up, the water a slight shade of pink. The menacing smile returned as he watched the motionless body on the bed. The wound was still seeping, soaking into the soiled mattress that DiNozzo lay on. He moved closer to the body, just wanting to reach out and touch the warmth of the destruction he had caused. The excitement and the pleasure were almost climatic but not quite. He still had a lot of work to do. He had to move and move quickly. Agent Gibbs would want his boy back, preferably in one piece. It had been four days since he had found his little prize walk through the doors at NCIS. He had promised himself it would last for a while. He knew his competition but he had a full day's head start on the Major Crime Response Team. He wondered if they had found his little cookie crumbs yet? They were definitely subtle but four days, this was starting to get ridiculous.

Suddenly a monitor came to life behind him as he heard the muffled sound of a car door slam from outside. A broader smile crossed his face. He had company. He had better pack up his things and make his move. It was too early yet. He had so much more fun to complete. They had no idea what was going hit them, neither did DiNozzo when he had finished with him.

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_**A/N: Just so you all know the guesses for who it might be were all very good but alas, none were correct. I really do wonder if anyone has picked up on the subtle clues that I have been leaving... Only time will tell i spose *insert evil laugh of your choice here***_


	7. Now We're Getting Somewhere

**_A/N Sorry guys no Tony whump in this one. I am trying to line up the timeline so I need to cover some investigative ground. Hope you enjoy :D_**

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Chapter 7: Now, We're getting somewhere!

"You better have something good for me!"

Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, coffee in hand and patience non-existent. Ziva finally looked up from her computer to start breaking down what she knew about the cab driver, Costa Taylor.

"All of his papers are good, Gibbs. He's been in America for nearly four years, been in Washington for two. He's worked at several cab companies but the longest he has ever stayed at any of them has been around the six month mark."

"Family?"

"Left them in Mexico. Seems Taylor has a family that could do with his support, Gibbs. I can't get any other information other than that. He's shiny clean."

Gibbs looked at the picture of Taylor on the plasma, a digital copy of the driver ID he used for Dulles Cabs. Gibbs stopped staring though, as he realized what Ziva had actually tried to say.

"Squeaky, Ziva. The term is squeaky clean."

Ziva went to ask more but Gibbs made a hasty escape to the lab. He needed to get McGee to look into the electronic side of Costa Taylor.

************

Gibbs walked in to find that both Tim and Abby were snoring softly, their heads lay uncomfortably on the desk. He looked at them and walked back out.

About ten minutes later, Gibbs came back to find that neither of his charges had awoken. Placing the Caf-Pow, the black coffee of his and a third one for McGee down, he thought he would bring them to life a new way. Sneaking his way through Abby's lab and into her office, Gibbs found that little CD player that Abby so lovingly adored. He pulled out a CD from Abby's collection, not bothering to memorise the name of the artist on the front. He thought he might give Abby a taste of her own medicine.

Gibbs carefully turned the volume all the way up as far as it would go and prepared his ears for the bleeding in them that was about to commence. Gibbs pressed the play button to find a noise filled rendition of what could only be called broken speakers, blew out its noise with gusto. Proud of his handy work Gibbs turned around expecting to find the shocked looks of his forensics scientist and his junior agent. Instead he found that neither had moved and that Abby now had a wistful smile planted on her face. They had to be kidding! That noise could raise hell and he hadn't even got a response.

Slightly bemused that his plan had failed, Gibbs pressed stop on the racket machine and decided to fall back on an old favourite. He crept behind them and whacked them both on the back of the head. Needless to say it aroused the result he was after.

Both of the underlings jumped in surprise, Abby in anger, McGee in slow-motion. Abby had never been hit on the back of the head before, never, ever, ever! She stood up and turned to Gibbs to give him a piece of her mind when she realized what she had been doing before she fell asleep. She had been waiting for any of her babies to talk to her and she had found that after twenty-four hours of cataloguing, DNA-testing and AFIS-matching, she found that all three of her babies wanted attention. Snatching the Caf-Pow out of Gibbs hands, she grabbed the results on the two red liquids that had been found on the corner of Tony's desk.

Abby gave a humph at the results, she crossed over to AFIS to discover that a fingerprint match had been found from the thirty or so that she and McGee had collected. About twenty of them belonged to Tony, as displayed by his NCIS issue ID on the Plasma on the opposite side of her computer screens. The other ten were running, narrowing down the amount of potential suspects into a fathomable number that could be questioned. The problem with it being a semi-public domain is that any number of people that worked in the building could have touched anything in the Bull-Pen and it wouldn't automatically mean that they were a suspect. They had to find something a bit more concrete than finger prints this time around.

While Abby was collecting all of her results, Gibbs ignored her, staring at McGee. Feeling slightly unnerved as usual, Tim turned towards his fellow agent, questioning with his eyes what Gibbs was intent on looking at on his face. As though reading his mind Gibbs offered as way of explanation, "Looked in a mirror lately, McGee?"

Tim looked puzzled as he scrounged around in Abby's lab looking for a reflection to peer into. After settling with the reflection in Abby's specimen fridge, Tim was pleased to discover that the third eye he thought he had developed while he was sleeping was not there. However, the feeling to the left side of his face, and particularly his cheek, had started to return, causing him to run his fingers loosely over his face. His hand felt the bumps and creases that lay there but was surprised to hear the tinkering of plastic fall on the floor. Once he realized what he was looking at, Tim stood quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Pressed into the side of his head were half of the letters from the AFIS keyboard.

Picking them all off, one at a time, McGee quickly and quietly made his way back to the keyboard and started putting the letters back into place. They had fallen asleep watching several hours of the most boring live feed in history as they were scrounging through the last of the security footage. While that had been happening, he had also been trying to get more information on the guy up in interrogation. Ziva had called him saying that she couldn't find anything that could help them get any information. It had been close to 12 hours since they had found anything and it had been six since Taylor had been brought in. They needed something to hold onto so they could swap it for information. That's when Tim's search started flashing.

Gibbs had followed Abby around as she finished gathering her evidence. He wanted to be doing something more than just standing here waiting for information. He didn't know how long Tony could hold out. He didn't even want to consider what his Senior Field Agent might be going through. He had been hurt in combat, but never tortured. Gibbs supposed he was lucky in that sense.

Gibbs noticed Tim getting back to his computer and so left Abby to her own devices for a while. Situating himself behind Tim, the younger man failed to notice his Boss's presence behind him once again. Tim, however had been working under Gibbs for a good while now, so the sound of his voice so close to his ear no longer made him jump, well, not outwardly anyway.

"What do you got, McGee?"

"Ziva had called to say that she was having trouble finding anything on Taylor so she asked me to hack into his bank records to see if I could locate anything."

"And did you?"

"Well, sorta, Boss."

Gibbs eyes were piercing through McGee's making sure that Tim knew to continue on.

"What do you mean, sorta?"

"Well, rifling through Taylor's bank accounts, it doesn't really show us anything that we didn't already know. He gets his pay check off of Dulles Taxies. Most of it gets transferred out to another bank account that goes… somewhere…"

"Mexico."

"Right… um… Mexico and the rest he keeps for himself for the bills he needs to pay. I can't find anything dirty on him at all Gibbs."

"Keep looking. That man knows something about Tony; he could be an accomplice for all we know. Get me something, McGee!"

Gibbs temper had inadvertently been issued at Tim. This was getting them nowhere and he needed to pin something on Taylor so that he could get the information he needed out of him.

As Gibbs went to stroll out of Abby's lab, Gibbs was heard to question how long it would take Tim to get him something. Legally they couldn't keep Taylor waiting any longer.

"How long?"

"It'll take time, Boss."

Gibbs stopped in his pace towards the door, did a heal turn and practically ran back into Tim's personal space. Having already taken the dangerous end of Gibbs fuse in the last few minutes, Tim swallowed quickly, never breaking eye contact with Gibbs. The words were almost lost on Tim because Gibbs had said it so quietly.

"Tony doesn't have any time, McGee! Find me something now!"

Gibbs strolled out of the lab in his usual marching manner. Obviously, now was the time to do, as Tony would say, _some proper detective work._

************

Gibbs sat opposite Taylor in the quiet little room with no view at all. The walls were plain, the table was plain, the chairs were plain. The only things that made the room interesting were the mirror opposite him and the camera that sat in the corner of the room. Gibbs had been seated across from Taylor for close to half an hour. Taylor was squirming in his seat. It hadn't taken long for a request to be made.

"So, when can I get out of here? I have a job to do. I could lose my job. Do you understand that?"

Gibbs regarded the man and just sat still, looking at him, intimidating him. It almost felt normal to be in that room but Gibbs had to remind himself that only Ziva was standing in the other room, witnessing the story that was about to be spilled. Tony would normally be there, but today, the only person that could help them out with that source of information was the well-kept Taxi Driver opposite him.

Taylor was a small man in stature. He dressed quite nicely and tidily for a man that lived on next to no money. Gibbs surmised that he probably didn't even see his family in Mexico. That made Gibbs growl outwardly for a second. Gibbs had a sudden vision of Tony's childhood, or what he had come to learn of it. If this man were anything like DiNozzo Sr. Gibbs would want to find something on him.

His thoughts were interrupted by another query.

"How much longer do I need to be here? I haven't done anything."

"We don't know that." Gibbs tone was even and steady. He wasn't going to give this man any leverage.

"Well why don't you ask me a few questions and I might be able to help you." The impatience in Taylor's voice was showing and Gibbs didn't like it one bit. If this man had done anything to Tony, Gibbs would see to it personally that he would fall and fall hard.

"Alright then, when did you last see this man?"

Gibbs had pulled out a blown up version of Tony's Badge ID photo. His face held no expression. Gibbs mind flashed to the photos in the elevator. Tony's same expression still held true in those photos as well through all the blood and gore. Gibbs eyes flashed with the thought but held onto it for future reference. He had to find out what Taylor knew first.

"Could you ID this man?"

"I thought you were him!"

"Who?" The words fled from Gibbs mouth to Taylor.

"The fare I had on Sunday morning. He was my last run before I knocked off. I thought you were him coming to get revenge because I hadn't waited and he'd been…"

Taylor stopped suddenly at the realization he was going to admit something that he didn't want to. Gibbs had other ideas about that.

"Oh no, you don't. You are going to continue with that line of thought."

Taylor took a deep breath, trying with all his might to avoid looking at the Silver Haired man in front of him.

"I swore I wouldn't tell."

"What is this? Grade School? Promised who you wouldn't tell what?"

"He said he would kill me."

"Who?"

"The guy that took my fare!" Gibbs eyes lit up at the piece of information that he had uncovered, someone had seen something of DiNozzo. Gibbs readjusted his facial expression, his eyes lining up with the wide, brown ones. Gibbs could almost smell the fear.

"What do you mean the guy that took your fare?"Gibbs voice was so low that it was nearly inaudible, his low roar evident to the person that sat opposite him. Taylor's eyes widened as dread hit him. Gibbs knew it was only a matter of time before they got a lead out of this suspect. In fact, a minute after Gibbs had spoken, Taylor broke his silence.

"Well, you see, I dropped your guy off here, right outside the gate, early on Sunday morning."

"What time?" Gibbs voice now imitated the sound of rolling thunder, enforcing the urgency he felt to get to the point of this interview and a step closer to finding his missing agent.

"Hey man, I don't know!"

Gibbs whacked his hands across the table. "Think!"

Taylor looked as though he might cry. "Possibly around three, I s'pose. He told me to wait and to keep the meter running. He said he wouldn't be long, he just had to grab something and then he would be back down."

"Grab something?" Gibbs mind was a flurry of new information. They now had a witness to Tony's disappearance. "Did he say what he came up here to grab?"

"No, nothing. He just told me to stay outside the gates."

"How long did you wait for him?"

"Well…" The hesitation was fierce through the thick Mexican accent. Taylor's eyes were flitting across the interrogation room as though trying to recall important information – that or he was reliving that night in his memory.

Gibbs short fuse had ended. Gibbs slammed his hands on the desk that hid Taylor's shaking knees. Taylor jumped from the shock of the sound, and fear seeped out of his pores.

"HOW LONG!?!" Gibbs needed information, _any_ information that would help him find Tony. His conversation with Ducky was replaying in his head – it could _last for days or weeks, possibly even months or years… Tony would be praying for death if it came to that._ He couldn't wait anymore.

Gibbs stormed towards the door of interrogation, a plan formulating in his mind. As he opened the door, making sure to illustrate his frustration on the inanimate object, he heard a voice yelling to him from inside the room.

Taylor needed to get back to his job. He needed more money so that his daughter could get the medicine she required. As he watched the Federal Agent get up to leave, he wondered how much more time he would spend in this room, wondering how he was going to make up the money for the payments for the medical expenses. He thought he would lose more time as the door banged shut with the disappearance of the other man.

Gibbs peaked his head back around the door he had just slammed shut.

"What was that?"

Taylor looked Agent Gibbs in the eye and said without stuttering, "I dropped the girl off too."

Gibbs eyes lit up with the information. Tony had been bragging about going on a date with that girl from the coffee shop down the road. Gibbs just assumed, like most weekends, that Tony only said those things to throw his team mates off the scent of what he was usually doing. Tony had no idea that both he and Abby would hack into NCIS' security mainframe and watch him make an idiot of himself auditioning for all those stupid interactive websites. Sometimes, though, Gibbs knew, Tony even caught up on paper work occasionally.

Gibbs placed a pen and piece of paper in front of a very tired and harassed cab driver.

"Address."

Taylor scribbled down the address of the first fare. Gibbs grabbed it with gusto telling Taylor that he would be back in a minute.

Gibbs entered the observation room to find Ziva waiting with her palm out.

"Take McGee," were the only words uttered between the two as they both acknowledged that they had to move fast. They were starting to get the ball rolling on finding Tony.

Gibbs turned back to regard the Cab Driver in the little room. Gibbs knew it was a start but he had a feeling that he was holding back. Gibbs knew Costa Taylor had more information to give them. That was when he couldn't help but notice the image standing in the corner of interrogation. The person held a relaxed stance, smiling that goofy grin of his and looking for all the world as though he belonged there. Taylor was still seated at the table so it was obvious that he hadn't noticed it. Gibbs rubbed his eyes and looked back towards the corner to find it bare. Gibbs chuckled quietly to himself as though he was going mad. He obviously just needed another coffee. Tony wouldn't be clever enough to leave clues, although…

Gibbs re-entered interrogation room one to check the corner. Taylor regarded him curiously as Gibbs placed his hand upon the wall to check that everything was normal. After realizing what he was doing, Gibbs turned to Taylor, explaining he was thinking of painting his house the same colour. Taylor watched as the man left again all the while thinking, "Only in America."

* * *

_**Thankyou to everyone that has reviewed, alerted, favourited and the like for this story. It's very heartening to see and I thank you all even those that read silently! :D**_


	8. Near Miss

_**A/N alrighty ppl, just so you know, I have got the bulk of the last of this story written. The updates should be moving quicker than once a month now! Only a few more chapters to go. **_

_**Oh and to all my new and old readers, thanks for your comments and your reading, alerting favouriting etc... It's nice to know that someone appreciates my efforts and it's not only me that likes it lol**_

_**Anyways, on with the story...  
**_

* * *

Chapter 8: Near Miss

Now that they had a time frame to work with, Abby started re-combing through the security footage that Ziva had collected the couple of days before. Taylor had said that he dropped Tony off at the NCIS building around the 0300 mark. So working with all the camera angles, she drew a timeline of 0230 to 0400 on all cameras just to be certain she wasn't going to miss anything that may help them locate him.

They were going to find him. They just had to.

************

A knock was heard through the hallway in the building. Melissa, having been asleep after working a double, tumbled out of bed and scrambled to find something to cover herself with before answering her door. Her loose hanging shirt and briefs would not make for good company, unless of course, Tony was at her door.

"Hang on a second!"

She stumbled over all the paper work that was strewn across the floor, mistiming one of her hops which resulted in her kicking her little toe on her sofa. Squealing slightly, she leapt over to her single seater that had a dirty mink blanket strewn across it. It had a sunset motif on it. Her brother, John, had bought it for her on a whim one day and she loved the feel of it and the warmth and security it also gave her. It also reminded her of her sibling, with his charming good looks and his inane grin. A bit like Tony's she thought absently, remembering her Saturday night out with the latter.

After wrapping herself up in the blanket, she hobbled over to her door to see who was waking her up at… She couldn't find her clock. It had probably been hidden by all the mess that lay haphazardly across her floor. Shrugging it off, she finally reached her target, her sweet voice filtering through the solid barrier to the two Federal Agents on the other side.

"Who is it?"

"NCIS. We're here…" a male voice responded.

"Oh Tony, you don't have to be so formal with me. You know that," she said in reply. Removing the chain from her safety latch, she was surprised to see two NCIS agents in the hall but neither of them was Tony.

The female agent spoke first.

"I'm Officer David and this is Special Agent McGee. We're here to speak to you about Saturday night, Miss…"

"Melissa. Melissa Bainbridge. This is about Tony, isn't it?"

"What makes you say that?" Ziva regarded the young lady that stood opposite her. She was having a hard time imagining Tony courting the young lady, if that was in fact what he was doing. The pieces didn't fit. For starters, this girl was probably about ten or fifteen years younger than him. Ziva could see Tony pursuing such a target but to actually get her to go out on a date with him, it seemed, well, out of character. She was sure that Tony had grown up just that little bit after the whole Jeanne debacle. Obviously she was wrong.

"Well, he said he would call by Monday and I haven't heard from him."

Tim inadvertently scoffed, receiving death glares from both the female occupant as well as Ziva. Tim knew, like most people, Tony would never call the morning after. It just wasn't his style. His little black book of names was illustration of that.

Melissa stood aside to let the two agents into her humble abode.

"Won't you come in? Sorry for all the mess. I have a major work due at the end of the week and my camera is at the shop. I'm a little stressed. Housework doesn't get done when I'm stressed."

She smiled, apologetically, at her two guests.

"So, you guys work with Tony?"

Wondering how well this woman knew Tony, both of the agents shared a glance before continuing with their answers.

"We do." Ziva answered, giving away no emotion as to why they were really here, in her apartment.

"So, where is he then? I thought he would have at least wanted to come and say hello."

"Actually, that is why we are here." Ziva swallowed and looked to Tim for support. She hadn't actually said the words out loud and now that she might have to, it started to make the whole situation seem real, not that it wasn't real. It just meant that once she said those words, she may actually have to acknowledge that Tony was actually in danger.

"Tony… is missing. We believe that you may have been one of the last people to see him."

Melissa gasped and held her hand up to her mouth, all the while holding onto the blanket that covered her. She pulled it in tighter for security, more than warmth.

"Wha – What happened?"

"Well, sometime after the taxi dropped you off, Tony returned to NCIS for a moment, to grab something. We were wondering if Tony had mentioned anything to you about what he had been going to grab."

"Well, as far as I knew he was headed home for the night. I've got no idea why Tony went to work."

Tim had started walking around the studio apartment while Ziva talked to Melissa. He had to hand it to Tony. He certainly had good taste in women. She was a mousey blonde; her soft curls fell down her back, a few cradled her neck and framed her face. A couple of strands stood awkwardly skyward but that was an indication she had just woken up. The mink blanket she had wrapped around her made her look younger than her twenty-three years. Tim noticed that every time Tony's name was mentioned, her eyes lit up in a way to suggest that they had known each other for a while. It was funny that he hadn't mentioned her but thinking about it, Tony had been in love with Jeanne and he hadn't spoken much about her either. Maybe that was how you knew that Tony was… _is_ in love.

"We didn't really talk about much at all. He said he was going to enjoy the sleep in on Sunday. He had asked me how my course was going…"

"What are you studying?"

"I'm doing a photography course."

Ziva remained stoic in her appearance, not letting out any information as to the significance of that statement.

"I was telling Tony that I had a major due at the end of the week and my camera is getting fixed. After that, we arrived outside, he kissed me goodnight and I came upstairs. That's all that happened."

"Thank you. You have been extremely helpful. If you can think of anything else…"

Ziva handed her one of her business cards as Tim continued regarding the pictures on the walls of her apartment. He stopped every few meters, taking in the intimate details of all of them until one caught his eye. Not realizing that he was being watched, Melissa felt the need to explain the photo Tim had stopped in front of. The photo was in black and white. The image held a young girl gripping the legs of an unknown adult, looking upwards as though they were their most favourite person in the whole world.

"That's Tony."

"What's Tony?" McGee asked absently.

"The picture that you're looking at, the legs you see in that photo, they're Tony's legs."

Ziva hopped up to take a look at the image. Why did this girl have a picture of Tony's legs on her wall? How long had Tony been with her? Tim asked the question that Ziva wanted to ask.

"So who's the girl?"

Melissa gushed a little at what she was about to admit.

"That's me."

Ziva and Tim shared a grin.

************

On the drive back from Melissa's home, Tim got a phone call. A very excited squeal that would make even the harshest sounds known to man bow in acceptance, came through the earpiece at such speed that Tim had no time to move it away from his ear. Abby had rung, rambled off a number of words, told him to hurry up and get back to the lab and then she hung up on him. The only thing that he could relay to Ziva was that Abby may have found something, something that could help them find Tony.

************

"You should have followed her you know."

Tony's swollen eyes slipped open at the solitary noise that was whispered into his ear. He had passed out again. He wasn't sure for how long. The last thing he remembered…

HE HAD BEEN SHOT!

Tony tried to scamper away from the voice that lay so close to his body. The motion was pointless due to the fact that his wrists were still chained to the bed he had become accustomed to waking up on. The last thing he remembered was the pain he had suffered as he had passed out in his clammy, little room. He still couldn't see anything but blurred shapes. His eyes must be getting better. He could now make out the white source of light that was incessantly humming above his head. It was a blurry source but he could at least identify to a degree something in his little predicament. It was a start.

Tony swallowed the bile that was churning unhelpfully in his empty stomach. He thought to himself, 'I'm gonna regret asking but…'

"…Should have followed who?"

Tony could feel his attacker's breath on his face. It reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Tony thought that this person might be slightly intoxicated, but he would still be coherent enough to be in control and that's what worried Tony the most; in control but with the freedom to do anything.

Tony was brought out of his thinking by the soft, familiar voice again. Because of the whispering it would be hard to identify his captor. Tony knew that he had encountered this man before, though. He could feel it in his bones. When the monster that was near him whispered that one word in reply to his question, Tony's world all but stopped, feelings being brought back by pain, remorse and especially guilt.

"Jenny."

Tony tried to will his eyes to be able to see who he was looking at. All he could do was spit the next question at him, unintentionally releasing the feelings he had over not being there for the former NCIS Director. He had never really dealt with it, hell he never really dealt with any of it; Kate, Paula, his mother. The more loss he felt, the more he hid behind his persona that everyone knew him for. Only a handful of people knew how to read him correctly, most of them, he hoped were currently trying to find him and get him out of this mess.

"What do you know about it?"

The question was laced with anger and frustration. The anger was obvious, bringing up painful memories was not a positive thing to be doing to someone that is being held hostage. Tony smiled with that thought.

"Ah, I see what you're doing. You're trying to break my mind as well as my body now, aren't you?"

The megawatt grin displayed on Tony's battered and bruised face was met by a punch to his mouth. Just like he thought, the guy was in control but not so in control. Tony didn't quite smile again, rather he held his lips in a sort of growl like position omitting no sound. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Tony yelled at the echo of his now empty room.

"I'll take that as a _yes_, shall I?"

************

Gibbs returned to the observation room. He knew that Taylor was holding back. Even though the lead with Miss Bainbridge had yielded some good answers, they were still no closer to locating Tony. His apparition walked around the room, however, acting as though he owned the place. Gibbs could see the bruising on his face and also that his smile had faded slightly. Tony looked tired and thin, and there were red marks around his wrists. Gibbs had to stop himself from staring in his direction. Gibbs was going to obsess if he wasn't careful.

Taking the last sip of his coffee, Gibbs tried to work out how Taylor ticked. He knew from experience, most Mexicans were here for a better life than what they had back home. Usually a cab driver that worked as many hours as Taylor did meant usually there was motivation for doing so. Gibbs was sure he was the last person to see Tony alive, he just needed something to go on so that they could go search for him.

Gibbs threw the empty coffee cup in the trash can next to the door in observation and walked around and into Interrogation. Taylor was flipping through his wallet, his cards all displayed wear and tear, probably having been used a lot to buy food and pay bills. Gibbs also noticed the picture, a faded photo that held two smiling faces, one a beautiful Hispanic woman with flowing brown hair and wide brown eyes. The second face was all that just in a miniature version. Gibbs heart ached but he quickly re-gathered his thoughts as he sat down in front of the man, having found his way in to getting him to talk.

"Nice picture you've got there."

Taylor smiled but not completely. It was a smile of loss and pain but of happiness as well. He gently rubbed his thumb over the image as if doing so would mean real contact but he knew they were five hundred miles away, trying to live their lives as best they could.

"This is a very old photo. She was only about two in this one. She's now seven…"

Tears were welling up in the man's eyes. Gibbs didn't know if he could do this if the man cried. Gibbs looked up and found that Tony was now sitting next to him, on an imaginary chair that was pulled up beside Gibbs. Gibbs watched as Tony reached his hand out and placed it on Taylor's arm, silently comforting him without his knowledge, acting as though a vigil was taking place. Taylor took a deep breath and started to speak, his confidence having picked up.

"I didn't tell you everything about what happened that night, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs just sat and watched as the man continued talking, taking in every piece of information that would be useful in their search for Tony.

"I waited. I waited for your man to come back out of the building. I was forced to park at the gate. Security was no where to be found. I needed to go to the bathroom. I was coming off an eighteen hour shift and I hadn't had a break in about six. It was really busy on Saturday. Must have been the warmer weather I s'pose."

Gibbs nodded along with the story, not interrupting in the hope it might lead somewhere.

"Your guy…"

"Special Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs offered.

"Special Agent DiNozzo hailed me down. I thought one more fare wouldn't hurt. I was running off-book anyway so one more wouldn't hurt.

I dropped the young lady off at her apartment. She was happy and tired it seemed. Special Agent DiNozzo walked her to her door, kissed her on the cheek and came back to the cab.

I asked to confirm that I was dropping him off at his address in Georgetown. He said that he had to make a detour past the NCIS building and then I would be able to drop him home. I said that if he was hopping out of the car, I would need him to pay for the trip so far so when we pulled up outside, he paid me and said if I didn't wait for him, he was a trained investigator and would find me at my home if he needed to.

I drove here. I waited outside for about ten minutes. He didn't show. I thought I would give him another five, you know. The last thing I needed was for a Federal Agent to be chasing me down all hours of the working week."

Gibbs had to hold back the smile. Tony's apparition was grinning inanely at him, having been proud of his intimidation technique.

"I needed to head for the bathroom. So I hopped out of the car. I snuck around past the security boom gate and teetered in slightly out of the light, and…"

Taylor finally looked up and into Gibbs eyes. His eyes held disgust at the information he was about to divulge. Taylor swallowed, hard, and went to continue his story.

"Well, um, you get the idea. Can I, uh, get some, ah, water?"

"In a minute."

Taylor swallowed again. He started shaking his head almost as though he was having an internal debate with himself. Gibbs placed his hand on the man's arm, replacing where Tony's had been a few moments before, forcing the man opposite to look up. Tears were welling in Taylor's eyes. He had so much pain and anguish hiding behind those eyes that Gibbs nearly said they'd do this later. Gibbs soon snapped out of it as he saw Tony's apparition screaming but omitting no sound.

Gibbs stood up quickly, his chair getting knocked back with an almighty crash. He went to help Tony but then quickly realized that he couldn't. What he was seeing was images from his mind, weren't they? Gibbs swallowed as he looked into the translucent form of his Senior Field Agent. Gibbs hoped that they were in no way linked to the real Tony.

Taylor hadn't moved from his spot. Seeing the Federal Agent move so quickly had spurred the argument to be internally taken up again. Should he tell him? He felt he could trust the guy but there was something holding him back. The action had an extremely unnerving effect. His eyes wide with fright at the sudden movement the Federal Agent had made in front of him.

"I have a family Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah…" Gibbs eyes had not moved from where he had seen Tony fall, absently not hearing the other man that was trying to tell him what he saw.

"I have a little girl. She is very sick. I work here in America and send my wife all of my money so that she can take our little girl to the doctor's. She has leukemia and where we live, there are hardly any doctors let alone any hospitals. The nearest one to us is about a hundred miles from where we live. She is there but the medical bills, they are so high. I cannot…"

Taylor's voice drifted off, lost in the pain of having a sick little girl. Gibbs could almost agree with the sentiment as the imaginary Tony lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the interrogation room. Gibbs took a deep breath and righted his chair from the upside down position it was in. He turned to the mirror behind him, using his hand to motion drinking and his other hand pointing at Taylor.

Placing his hand back on Taylor's arm, Gibbs sighed and spoke in a calming voice.

"Now, tell me what you saw."

************

"Boss!?!"

Tim couldn't hide his excitement of watching the footage that had been played over and over on the plasma. Abby had been looking through the last of the video surveillance that had been catalogued and found an interesting piece of imagery. He and Ziva couldn't have believed their eyes when they realized what they were seeing.

A high range, Black Mercedes had been parked just outside the front doors. The time stamp said 0312. All of the other cameras had been offline except for the one that was outside the main entrance. The front doors opened and out came a person, dragging another body behind them.

"Pull that up, McGee!"

Tim pressed a few buttons that zoomed in on the assailant. They only got a look at the top of his head. The man was bald with long dark hair covering the sides of his head. He dragged the body behind him as he walked backwards towards his car. Opening the door, he lifted the motionless body into the back seat, the wrists bound and the face swollen.

"Zoom in on that face, McGee."

"I can't Boss. We tried all of the other angles as well we can't get a clear picture of his face."

Gibbs looked at Tim, wide-eyed and annoyed.

"You didn't mean that face, did you?"

"No McGee, I didn't."

Pressing a few more buttons, Tim zoomed in on the footage of the body being dragged by the assailant. As the picture pixilated as it cleared, Ziva and Tim gasped. Tim broke the silence.

"Boss, that's…"

"Tony. Get a BOLO out on that Merc, now! Can you get a plate?"

Ziva was already at her desk typing away feverishly, while Tim adjusted and played with the focus trying to bring up the information on the car. All I can get is the first two letters, Zulu, Delta.

"BOLO is out, Gibbs."

"That's good work."

Gibbs nodded his appreciation at the efforts his team had gone to find Tony. He silently walked up to the plasma, taking in the detail of Tony's face. It was bloody and bruised, his eyes were swollen. He had a gash across his left bicep and a blood-riddled shirt, Gibbs saw was probably from a third slice across his chest. His nose was tinged red and his eyes were shut. Gibbs prayed that they weren't too late.

************

A hit had been made on the BOLO only four hours later. A local sheriff had noticed the high-class car getting groceries at their general store. What a federal agency that dealt with the Navy wanted with a Mercedes out in the back of South Gate, God only knew. He responded however, noting that the license plate on the car had Zulu, Delta and Alpha as its first three letters. The Sheriff took a drag of his cigarette – it was going to be a long day.

Gibbs leant closely beside the door to the barn. After receiving the information from Sheriff Holdings, all three of the agents quickly returned to their car, hoping to get a jump on the bastard that had done this to their family. The smell of cow manure was strong and the barn looked pretty worn and unused. The foundation of the barn was concrete, Gibbs noted. Ziva managed to point out the tire tracks leading into the building. He could hear a faint but familiar voice inside echoing through the gaps of wood – Tony's. He seemed to be having a one-sided conversation as there was no voice that returned his chorus.

Gibbs motioned for McGee to watch the back door they had noticed when they drove in, while Gibbs and Ziva held the double doors at bay. The well-worn exterior of the abandoned barn was all that kept them from saving Tony. Gibbs heard a muffled voice in his ear. McGee was trying to say something but he couldn't make out what.

"Say again, McGee? You're coming in broken."

"Boss… there … -eras … they … coming!"

With what Gibbs could make out from what Tim was saying, he glanced in an upwards motion. Sitting atop the highest point of the farmhouse, Gibbs noticed what seemed out of place, the piece of modern technology that had no right being on a dilapidated barn. Gibbs thought to himself that surely the cows weren't mischievous enough to require constant supervision by closed circuit surveillance cameras.

"Shit!"

Gibbs mind was running a mile a minute knowing that their surprise attack was not so secret anymore. Trying to figure out how to play this, he was interrupted by the sounds of a roaring engine and squealing tires that echoed from inside the hollow structure. Without a second thought, Gibbs pushed Ziva out of the way of the gap in the two doors in time to see a black Mercedes careen through the now splintered wood. Gibbs crouched low and fired his weapon, hitting metal as the car sped away. He was about to fire his final round through the back windscreen when something caught his eye, a head was leaning upwards, looking at him, a gag around his mouth and the cuts and bruises evident around his face. Gibbs pulled his firearm back and stopped shooting, instructing Ziva to do the same. Gibbs made a mental note of the few letters he could make out on the plate.

Ziva looked at her boss curiously, trying to figure out why she had been ordered to cease fire. Tim had only just caught up to them questioning with his eyes what had just occurred.

"Boss?"

Tim's question was short and to the point. Gibbs knew what he wanted to know with that one word. He watched as the car sped off down the dirt track leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Gibbs lowered his weapon as he turned to face his two remaining agents, filling them in on what they had missed.

"McGee! I need a trace done on that car!"

"Did you get a plate?"

"Only got the first part of it, McGee – Zulu, Delta, Alpha, Bravo. It was a black Mercedes, not sure what make."

"It was an AMG Gibbs, top of the line." Ziva filled her boss in on the missing information.

"Did either of you get an ID on the driver?" Tim asked curiously, hoping to find something else to work with, only to be disappointed with the simultaneous shaking of heads from both his Boss and his partner.

Ziva illustrated, "They drove through the doors before we could see who it was. They went to drive over us, McGee."

Gibbs listened to Ziva's description of what had happened. She had thankfully skipped over the bit relaying to Tim that Gibbs had pushed her out of harm's way. He knew though that by the way she kept staring in his direction that she was grateful and the lack of words was all they needed to convey the understanding.

"So, why did we stop firing Boss? Why did we let them get away?"

Gibbs voice was leveled down to a whisper, as he stood beside both his agents, explaining his actions in one fell swoop:

"Tony was in the back," was all he said as he put on his latex gloves and walked through his agents into the now present crime scene in front of them. Tim and Ziva starred after Gibbs, looking towards Gibbs and then back towards the cloud of dust that was disappearing in the other direction. Both Tim and Ziva knew that Gibbs was hoping he had done the right thing. What his fellow agents didn't know was his gut kept churning in an unfavorable manner, suggesting that maybe he hadn't.

* * *

_**So what do you think is going to happen now? Any more ideas on who you think it might be??**_

_**Let me know???  
**_


	9. Found?

_**On with the torture!**_

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Chapter 9: Found?

Abby's lab was silent. The quiet was in respect to Tony who no one had seen or heard of from since he went missing ninety-four days ago. That was three months, give a few days. She had not seen Tony in three months and it still killed her to know that he was out there somewhere, probably all alone, possibly…

Abby shook her head of the thought although the scientist in her was telling her that he was more than likely dead. Anyone that is missing for three months, usually never came back home alive. She would not give up hope. She would just keep doing her job. Day in and day out, she was sure that they would find Tony. Her heart broke with the thought that he may not be able to return the hug this time as a tear silently rolled down her face, stopping at her lips as it seeped into her mouth. Abby just stared at her picture of Tony, gently rubbing his two dimensional cheek.

"Where are you Tony? We really need you back here. All of us, including Gibbs."

*********

Gibbs sat at his desk staring into the eyes of the man that had disappeared from their lives all those months ago. Gibbs had a copy of the team photo made and placed it on his desk next to a second frame that showed a picture of Kelly and Shannon. It constantly stayed there on his desk, taunting him but spurring him on. It had been three months since they had raided that barn out in the back of South Gate. There they had found evidence that was extremely concerning but they made sure to catalogue it all. Pools of blood over a sweat soaked mattress, pieces of chain dangling from the bed posts of the single bed were all signs to say that someone had been there a while and they hadn't been moved a lot. Abby had found skin on the ends of the lengths, suggesting that someone had been tied up with them. DNA testing had found that the skin belonged to Tony. The blood was also a match, A Positive. Tony's records showed that he was that blood type. The problem was there was a lot of blood. Gibbs swallowed hard, hoping that Tony was still alive, thinking somewhere within that maybe he wasn't.

Abby had nearly broken down with the finding of the new information. She didn't want to think about what Tony had gone through and to think he was still out there with that monster, she couldn't take it. Gibbs had hugged her all the same, trying to reassure both her and himself they were going to find him.

McGee's search on the Mercedes had become a dead end. The only information they had to go on was that an eye witness had seen a blue Honda Accord driving off from the same Parking Garage at roughly the same time as the Black Merc had been abandoned. The security footage showed the car exiting the station but there was no footage to suggest that there was a body inside. After a raid on the abandoned car, there was no evidence to suggest that Tony was still alive, only that he had been moved. What they didn't know was whether it was to a shallow grave or to a second location of torture.

The footage was too grainy to make out a positive ID on the driver. The angle didn't help either, only being able to see the driver's hands and the back of his head but not much else. The only clue they had was that the man was Caucasian, balding with longer, dark hair, and he was driving a Blue Sedan. Trying to track down another lead, McGee had run the plates, hoping to find a suspect. All the team had ended up with was another dead end when it turned out they had been stolen as well.

************

Vance had become worried about his Major Crime Response Team. They were still getting their work done and to the same standard as before that fateful day when they had made the discovery in the NCIS building's main elevator. He had thought about pulling them of main rotation but then realized that it would probably do more harm than good. He had noticed however that Gibbs' team was there well after everyone else had gone home, probably re-combing through evidence that they may have missed. The problem was they needed DiNozzo. As much as Vance hated to admit it, DiNozzo actually filled in the gaps where everyone else missed something. The second issue was that DiNozzo wasn't there to help them get any leads. Vance sighed and shook his head.

Vance had got a shock the day that Gibbs had told him that he would accept a temporary recruit, at least until they found Tony. He had been sure to stress that point. Vance held back his opinion that would have included quoting statistics on this sort of disappearance, all of them not positive. He knew that Gibbs would keep looking for his agent until he found him, dead or alive and nothing Vance or anyone, for that matter, could say would stop him.

************

Gibbs hadn't thought about his Senior Field Agent in a couple of hours. He was worried. He felt as though he was letting him down because he was starting to forget about him. Gibbs looked out of the office window, ignoring the lights of the harbor that cascaded across the ripples of a slow moving current. He found a strange comfort in staring out over the docks. He knew that Tony was out in the world somewhere, alive. The question was where to start looking.

All of the team had gone over and revisited the evidence over and over again during the last three months. The statistics were working against them. Most people that were missing for this amount of time ended up in a ditch somewhere, their body discarded as though it was no longer needed or wanted. Gibbs knew it was probably hope but somewhere within his soul, he knew they would find Tony. He wouldn't stop until he found the boy he regarded as his own son.

Gibbs had asked McGee after the first month to upload Tony's missing case file to his desktop so that he had easy access to go over it whenever he needed it. He knew that file word for word, from the moment they found the elevator in the state it was in to watching Tony's face disappear in the back of that car. Gibbs kept reliving the moment when he had ceased fire on the vehicle. He had to wonder and cover all the possibilities including pausing to reflect on whether Tony would be with them now had he fired his weapon. Gibbs asked himself that question when he passed the desk that still held an essence of Tony; his mighty mouse stapler, American Pie coffee mug and his favoured letter opener, all on display around the keyboard on his desk. The fine layer of dust that accumulated across the piece of furniture was the only reminder that Tony had not been around for a while. Gibbs would sit at it once a week when everyone had gone home, thinking about how he felt that he had let Tony down. He couldn't find him. He wouldn't stop though until he did. He knew that Ducky was starting to worry about the manifestation and obsession that was building around this case. Not just in him, but Gibbs could also see it starting to manifest in Tim and Ziva too. Too many late nights were spent falling asleep to the sound of search engines rolling and leads being lost.

Ironically, it was the words that had filled Gibbs with dread when he had first heard them out of the Medical Examiner's mouth, that were giving him hope – it could _last for days or weeks, possibly even months or years. _He had to believe that in a sadistic and twisted way, Tony was still being tortured.

The hallucinations had never returned once they had let Taylor go. Once they stormed that barn, Tony seemed to have fallen off the planet. Gibbs returned to the interrogation transcript, reliving the moment he had shown Taylor the photo. Gibbs had a flash of memory. During the questioning, Gibbs had noticed something. The torture photo of Tony held the same expression that his blown up ID photo held. He had meant to ask Abby about it on the day but it completely slipped his mind once Taylor had disclosed Miss Bainbridge's address. Gibbs felt like slapping himself silly. Instead, he went straight to work.

Gibbs brought up the two photos, looking closely at the images trying to find similarities. He thought he could see it but he needed a second opinion. Tim was snoring softly at his desk, while Ziva had crashed on the floor to sleep. He felt that disturbing them would be sinful but thought that if they couldn't be part of this query, it would be like burying Tony too soon.

First he went to Tim. He felt that if he had a second person behind him when he woke Ziva, he would have back up should she happen to shoot a round from that gun she slept with.

Gibbs nudged McGee, flicking him on the cheek trying to arouse his agent. Gibbs had to smile slightly at how child like everyone appeared when they were asleep. Because Tim was the youngest out of them all, he appeared the youngest and it warmed his heart that Gibbs was not the only one combing through the evidence for Tony. Some nights, Gibbs even thought about forming a campfire in the hope it would make Tony come in and laugh at the gag. Geez, he missed the humour. It felt like it had been years since they smiled, let alone laughed.

McGee's eyes opened slowly to the gentle touch that accompanied the sight of his Boss' face above him. Slightly confused by the odd juxtaposition, Tim stretched all the aches out of his body from sleeping in his chair.

"Yeah, Boss. I'm awake. What do you need?"

"I need you to help me wake Ziva."

"Oh no, not after what happened last time. I like my fingers in the position they are in."

Gibbs stood over McGee placing the order without saying a word. McGee groaned and acknowledged that once again he had lost the argument.

"Alright, but if I lose a foot, you are the one that is going to get stuck looking after me."

************

Tony had lost count of what day, what week, even what month it was. He had been held for so long. He had undergone days at times without food and the times that he did receive it, it made him sick but he ate it until he threw it back up again. Tony had lost his faith in Gibbs, surely they wouldn't have forgotten about him, surely he was worth something to them, and surely they had missed him. Tony's shoulders shrugged in defeat at the thought he was never going to be found. He knew that he had been gone for a long while. Tony's cuts had turned into scars and new cuts had been applied to the ones that had healed over. His eyes were better and he knew that every time he fell asleep he was woken up in the most painful of ways. The shot to his leg had been a through and through but he winced with the movement that he could barely accomplish with it. His back had healed only to be replaced by several others, having spent probably close to a week being lashed with a cat-o-nine-tails religiously after every meal. Tony was spent. He was tired and he was sick of fighting. He was waiting for the moment that he would not wake up but it never came. Nothing ever happened for him the way he hoped, the sleep never came and Gibbs never came. Tony's hope was fading.

Trying to forget his predicament, his mind wandered to that wonderful Saturday night with Melissa. They had eaten well at a little Italian Café that wasn't overly pricey but they had food that you could have swore was imported straight from the European Country and onto your plate. The coffee was also a hit – a massive hit of caffeine. The night had ended well and he had walked her to her car, kissing her goodbye on the cheek and opening the car door for her. It had been so long since he had seen his best friend John but having dinner with his younger sister was just as fun. She was a lot like him and he had promised that he would look out for her while she was in the city. Working two jobs as a barista and a waitress meant that some things didn't come easy so once a month he took Melissa out for some fun and some decent food. They always flirted when they were at the coffee place. They kept up the act because they both knew it stirred fierce brotherly feelings in John when they did it in front of him. It was just a good laugh.

If the team knew that he and Melissa were only friends he would never have heard the end of it. Even Probie would tease and maim him, Tony thought. Abby would punch him on the shoulder. He could almost feel her punches. It was these thoughts of being back with the team that spurred him on although the tether was going to break sooner rather than later.

Returning to that fateful night, Melissa had hopped into her car, having quickly discovered that it wouldn't start. So, being the gentleman that he was, he suggested that they catch the same cab, first dropping her off at her apartment and him at his. Once the cab had been hailed, they both settled in for the ride, Tony having asked her how her photography course was going. Amid all the small talk it was mentioned that her camera was in getting repaired and she had a major assignment due at the end of the week. Tony thought to himself that he would lend her his work one. It would only be for a week. Gibbs need never know. Tony smiled and told her not to worry about it. He would sort something out for her. Unfortunately he never made it that far.

Once he was dropped off at the gates, he noticed that the security room was empty. Tony smiled, he would only be a few moments anyway. Smithy was probably off having a smoke somewhere. It wouldn't be in Tony's favour to tell the man. It would only slow him down.

After reaching the third floor, Tony stepped out into the dimly lit room. The floor was eerily silent, the on call team, possibly out on location or at home taking a quick nap while they could. Walking across to the Bullpen, Tony unlocked his bottom draw and pulled out his work-issued camera. He was just about to lock it back up when an interesting noise came from McGee's desk. Sort of like a chime but not quite sweet enough. Placing his camera on Tim's desk, Tony moved the mouse to stop the screen saver. What he noticed on the screen was a program informing him that his defrag was complete. Tony had to laugh out loud. Only McGee would think to defrag his computer when they had a weekend off. Shaking his head, all the while smiling and saying "Probie, Probie, Probie, Probie," Tony reached over and shut down Tim's computer.

"Don't say I never did anything for you, McGoo."

As the sounds of Windows Vista played their closing sequence, Tony's eye caught movement over near the main elevator. Being the curious and over cautious Federal Agent that he was, Tony stalked across to the elevator, coming in from the far side of the floor, because that side of the lift had more depth than the side with the buttons. His hand wavered above his holster, making sure that he had it un-pinned for easy access. Tony stood beside the threshold, trying to see as far in to the stainless steel room as he could. Being unable to see anything, he walked into the room, only to feel immense pain cut deeply across his back, starting below his right shoulder blade in an upwards direction to stop above his left shoulder. The force and surprise of attack had the momentum to cause Tony to spin around, his eyes shut tight from the massive amount of pain laden across his back. The next pain was felt in his left bicep as the dagger was sliced across it in a backhanded motion to the slash on his back. It was the third cut that disarmed him. Once his bicep had been sliced, it sent his reflex to send him into an open position, exposing his chest for his attacker to rip into. The gash had caused so much pain as the downward motion from left to right, left him holding his chest. He had keeled over from the pain, his gun now on the floor after having hit the wall with an almighty thud. The doors to the elevator had closed during the ass-whooping. He was unarmed, in pain and distracted when he missed the knee that got him squarely on the tip of his nose, sending his neck back and then he hit his head. After months of being by himself, Tony had figured out that he must have left a massive dent in the wall of the lift if he had hit it as hard as he thought. Everything else after that was painful, dank, clammy and lonely.

Tony's memories were interrupted by immense agony and he quickly found himself struggling for breath. He didn't, did he? He hadn't fallen asleep again. He was suddenly cold and shivering, wet and saturated as his lungs burst forward in massive bouts of coughing. He ached from head to foot but his chest felt as though it was on fire. He tried breathing in all the air he could get his hands on but each breath brought with it a tickle that resulted in his chest convulsing with the inability to draw in healthy oxygen. Tony took a few minutes to control his breathing. He didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that it hurt – all of him hurt. He was getting tired of the agony.

Tony never pleaded for help, never begged to be released. He would give this bastard no satisfaction if he could help it. Now that Tony could see, although not completely clearly, he had become accustomed to the hooded figure that enjoyed his job too much. Tony felt his body returning to the water, the cold playing havoc with his lungs, knowing full well that if this guy didn't kill him soon, the pending pneumonia would. His thoughts were drawn to the movie A Long Kiss Goodnight. He remembered the scene where Geena Davis' character, Samantha Caine, who was really Charly Baltimore – an assassin for the CIA – was tied to a water wheel in the middle of winter in her night slip. She was pummeled into the depths of the freezing water. He could never watch that movie again, not after actually living it.

Tony held his teeth together trying to stem the flow of chattering that was threatening to show. He was pulled from the water, the cool crisp Autumn air still filtering through the room. The attempt at forcing his jaw to tighten failed as the newly discovered pain that pierced through the bone caused more agony and grief. That was when it happened…

Tony started pulsating. The loss of control that was evident over his body, consumed him. The screams could not be controlled, the twisting and jerking of limbs were sporadic and violent. Tony was shuddering from head to foot because of something that was being done to him. He couldn't stop it and he wanted it to stop. Oh God he wanted it all to go away! Tim, Ziva, Abby… Gibbs! Someone had to come and come soon. Tony felt the shocks die down in his body and he knew that he was crying – the pain had been too intense. He couldn't help himself. Sobs wracked his body, stealing whatever energy he had left in him to disappear. He fought bravely but he couldn't help it. Words could be heard through all the sobs that were eating him up. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no." All of the words ran together in a desperate attempt to try and keep himself awake. Every time he fell asleep he woke up to pain. He didn't want to feel this way any more. His eyelids were becoming heavy and he knew he was losing the struggle. He yelled for Gibbs in the hope that a miracle would come. The last resort was to believe that his surrogate father cared enough to still be looking. Tony's body was ploughed into the depths of the freezing cold water, swallowing the agent again.

************

Tim and Ziva had exited the car. The other company car pulled in behind them and out stepped Gibbs and Maloney. Tim and Ziva gave a knowing nod to their boss, ignoring the pathetic excuse for a federal agent that was at Gibbs side. Gibbs was clearly not talking to him, which meant that none of the team was talking to him. What was the big deal? It was just a desk for crying out loud.

As though Gibbs had heard his thoughts, the infamous glare was pointed in Maloney's direction. Gibbs did not want to talk to this Maloney kid. Who did he think he was? That was Tony's desk. Tony would need it when they found him. Gibbs' mind returned to the beginning of the week when he had paced into the bullpen to find Maloney sitting at his Senior Field Agents' desk, Tony's things in boxes and all of his own crap displayed across the desk in its place. Tim and Ziva had not been far behind him and before Gibbs could get a word out he felt the presence of his two other agents sidle up beside him. They would have appeared immensely intimidating, the three of them hovering over Maloney like that. Swallowing hard, his hot coffee ever present near his lips, Gibbs had managed to stutter forth "What do you think you're doing?"

Tim and Ziva didn't say a word yet they were not about to back down, making sure that all of them had Tony's back. He would need that desk when he came back to work for them, alive and, well, maybe not well, but he would be alive and at the end of it all, that was all that mattered.

Maloney hadn't even got the chance to explain himself when Gibbs got a call from dispatch. He yelled "Gear up!" and then they all stormed towards the elevator. Gibbs stood behind Maloney as he said "I'll deal with you later," as they went for the main elevator. Gibbs no longer faltered as he stepped into that lift, but occasionally he would use the stairs because the overwhelming sight that he couldn't get out of his head from time to time. The last time he had seen Tony, he had been in that elevator and it had been a terrible sight.

Coming back to the task at hand, Gibbs ordered his other agents around the back of the dock sheds. Someone had reported hearing screams coming from its depths but they had been rather inebriated at the time and so it was worth following up. Gibbs gut was churning at the thought that there may be something to the report.

His suspicions were confirmed when a scream leaked through the gaps in the concrete clad building. The lights on the outside of the building flickered as though a massive power surge had coursed through its veins. Even though it was the middle of the day, the flickering of the outside fluorescents still had caught Gibbs attention. He pulled his sig from its holster at his hip, his ankle gun firmly in place for his backup. He quickly and deftly sidled up to the exterior wall of the docking warehouse, whispering into the mike situated on his jacket cuff asking if McGee and Ziva were in place.

Intel had shown this particular warehouse on the docks had been unused for close to a year. It had been down for maintenance after shards had been seen falling from the beams inside. Maloney had fallen into line, following Gibbs lead. Gibbs nudged the massive door open slightly to see if he could get any information. The place was covered in dirt and dust, but there was one thing that Gibbs had taken notice of, foot prints that marked a path through it all. There were multiple tracks, suggesting that they had been here for a while or that there was more than one person doing this. It sent shivers down his spine. If Tony was here, and alive, Gibbs would hate to think that his Second-in-Command had been under his nose the entire time.

Gibbs gave the go ahead for them all to enter the building, making sure to add that there was definitely someone inside and to take the proper precautions. Gibbs instincts told his to head for the centre of the structure. He adeptly made minimal sound as he glided into position, closely followed by the sad excuse for a Federal Agent. He was pleased to find that their missing blue sedan that had been videoed in the parking garage all those months ago, was sitting in the middle of the crates and boxes that had been discarded with the building. Gibbs placed a hand on the bonnet to see if it was still warm. It was, slightly, but whoever had used it had been here for a couple of hours, unaware that their plans were about to be interrupted.

Gibbs heard Ziva's soft tones filter through his ear wig, stating that they were in position, near a room towards the side of the building. Gibbs followed deftly and silently towards the same room, creeping in a way his knees would regret later.

That was when he heard it.

Gibbs heard his name. He heard the word help and then his name, he was sure of it. He turned to Maloney, asking with his eyes as to whether the probationary agent had heard the plea for himself. With a nod, Gibbs confirmed his suspicions as McGee's voice asked, "Boss? Did you hear that?"

"Hold your position McGee. Maloney and I will be to that room in a minute."

Running again towards the room that lay silent for the moment, Gibbs and Maloney, snuck into position, by the final obstacle that stood before them. Gesturing with his hands he ordered Ziva to kick the door in and for McGee to fall in first, followed by Ziva, Maloney then he was to pull up the rear. They were about to take action when a scream shattered through their bodies, a screech so high that it didn't seem possible for a person to make that sound. It was a sound they would never would have imagined to hear, but without a doubt, the senior three on the team knew, they knew that sound had come from Tony.

* * *

_**Thoughts??**_


	10. Last Words

**_A/N: I am so sorry that it took this long to update. I know I had promised this chapter a month ago but I discovered that it was not as finished as I thought it had been. Hopefully this chapter will make up for the delay. There will only be about one or two chapters after it._**

**_Warning: Very discriptive writing regarding injury. Please do not read if you do not like.  
_**

**_SPOILER ALERT: for Judgement Day, Season 5 and Internal Affairs and probably some others but I'm pretty sure these are the main two eps.  
_**

* * *

Chapter 10: Last Words

"NCIS!"

The shock of hearing Gibbs voice forced the man to turn quickly. His hand was still on the lever that controlled the hook that would plunge Tony's body into the pool of water. How on earth had he been found? Planting this dark web below Gibbs nose had meant that he had three months with his captive, no one any the wiser.

The man stayed facing away from the team, his left hand held high, his right staying on the lever that controlled the hook DiNozzo was hanging from. The severed electrical cord that was held into the pool of water below was still a possibility for revenge as was the Federal Agent's weapon secured at his hip beneath the Armani shirt he was loosely wearing over his torso. The expensive shirt was covered in sweat and dust. The gun was hidden.

"So, you finally found me, Gibbs."

The voice was definitely familiar and had not been seen since the day he had been brought in to clear up the whole La Grenouille debacle. The British accent was fading along with his care for what he was doing.

"Trent Kort. I should have known. CIA attack techniques, black Mercedes. You're a man of old habit. I'd heard you lost your job somewhere along the line. Thought the world would be a better place for it."

Kort's eyes held nothing but pain as he realized what he had become. Then his smile widened, as he realized he didn't care. He had lost the two most important things in his life. Anthony DiNozzo was going to pay for the second one. Director Jenny Shepard had paid for the first.

************

Gibbs stared down the former CIA agent very closely, their eyes locked in a silent battle. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Tony was wearing nothing except the torn and bloody pants he had gone missing in all those months ago. Tony was held by pieces of chain that dangled from a crane's hook, his red, raw wrists bleeding with the effort of holding Tony's body weight. By the looks of it, Gibbs noted, there wasn't much body weight to be holding. All of Tony's rib cage was exposed through the skin that lay thinly above it, his stomach concaved in due to gravity pulling at his feet. Tony's head was down, the sobs coming from the agent the only clue that Gibbs had that his Senior Field Agent was still alive, still fighting. Gibbs expression changed to that of worry as he realized how close to death Tony actually was. If Kort pulled the lever again and Tony was electrocuted, Tony might possibly die due to the fact that he was malnourished and soaking wet. As Gibbs thought those words, a cough wracked at Tony's body. It was only one cough, but one cough, all those years ago, had scarred his lungs. One cough in Anthony DiNozzo was the beginning of pneumonia, no two ways about it. Gibbs weighed up his options. Four verses one. Those odds weren't half bad but Kort's hand wavered ever so slightly near that power lever that the combined reaction time of his team probably couldn't stop Tony from being shocked again.

Gibbs looked at Tony's figure. He could hear the familiar rasp that came with every bronchial infection that Tony got each and every year like clockwork since the plague. With his eye's never leaving Kort, Gibbs raised his voice, finally acknowledging his friend.

"Tony?"

The question was short, to the point and aroused a reaction.

"Tony? Can you hear me?"

Tony's head lulled upwards with the mass amount of effort it would have required. Gibbs was shocked to see the gaunt look on his face. He had heard a gasp behind him, probably from Ziva, as the team looked into their missing friend's eyes. Even Gibbs felt the need to breathe harder. There was no colour to witness there. The usual vivid hazel had been replaced by blood-shot grey, illustrating the sleepless nights, the malnutrition and the fact that he had been crying. Tony looked like a lost boy, his face stained with dust and tracks of clean skin where his tears had fallen. There were copious amounts of cuts across his face and the swelling in his eyes hadn't completely disappeared.

Gibbs tried to elicit a response from Tony again the only way he knew how. His Sig never wavering from Kort's position, Gibbs barked his order.

"Tony!"

"Yes Boss!"

Gibbs couldn't help but smile. Tony would forever be his loyal St. Bernard.

"How you doing over there?"

Gibbs knew the question was a stupid one but he had to get Tony to realize that there was something worth fighting for, that he had to hold on, that Gibbs was really there, in the same room, with the rest of his team.

"Never been better! There's nothing I like more than hanging out near the river with all those electric eels swimming through you."

That was all Gibbs needed. Tony's sarcasm helped Gibbs decide Tony was aware that it was all real. Tony knew that Gibbs was actually in the room. Tony was able to pick up his end of the bargain. Tony had a reason to live.

"You stay put DiNozzo."

"Not going anywhere, Boss."

Gibbs returned his focus on Kort.

"You let him down off that hook."

"What makes you think I'm going to that, Gibbs."

Kort nearly spat the other man's name out of his mouth. His hatred for the man that was hanging by his wrists was starting to be a pain in his arse, and the man in front of him kept kicking him to make it more painful. He was quickly weighing up his options, knowing full well that the gun at his hip was also an option but he had to be quick if he were going to use it. Four Federal Agents versus his self, the odds weren't exactly in his favour but still, he really had nothing to lose.

"It wasn't a request Kort!"

Gibbs patience was growing thin. He could see Tony just holding onto consciousness and hear that the colder air was starting to affect his breathing. Washington wasn't the coldest of places at the start of Autumn but seeing as Tony had no shirt on and was soaking wet, malnourished and possibly slightly dehydrated, it was in his best interest to end this quickly. Gibbs knew that Kort had nothing to lose but to do all this over a job? It didn't quite fit.

Ducky's words resonated through his head from all those months ago when he had done his psychological profile, stating '_this person enjoys their work immensely. I think this form of psychosis would be brought upon by the feeling of having lost something. They feel they can regain that loss by what they are doing to their captive. Power seems only part of it. An attack of this type and the place suggest that this may even be a personal vendetta of some sort…They may have lost something or someone deeply, Jethro, something that they held onto, something that had kept them going. I do know however, that there is more to this loss than meets the eye.'_

Gibbs noticed that McGee was behind him, his firearm still at the ready but his phone cradled in his neck, either calling for backup or an ambulance. Gibbs prayed he was asking for both. His gut was churning with a feeling, a feeling that something was wrong.

Gibbs looked into Kort's eyes and studied them. He knew that look. It was a look of personal loss and betrayal. The first look Gibbs knew all too well. He saw it himself every morning when he saw his reflection in the mirror. The second look, however, he knew less often but was ashamed to admit that he had seen that look as well and it was the man he was trying to save that had held it the most. Only twice had he seen it but coming from him, the trust was a fine line. Coming out of his thought process, Gibbs had a thought as to who may have betrayed his trust.

"La Grenouille."

Kort's head flicked up with recognition as a connection had been made. Kort obviously wasn't as good as he used to be. Gibbs had seen right through him. Kort smirked at the recollection of the beginning of the end of his life as he knew it.

"Bits of it were but that fiasco disappeared nearly a year ago."

"Jenny?"

Kort smirked as he saw the anger intensify on Gibbs face. Gibbs needed to understand the power that such a loss could hold. Gibbs understood how he felt. The sense of helplessness as a person disappears from your life without rhyme or reason. It was nothing you could do to stop it and that was the bit that drove Kort crazy. He had concocted this so that his failure would not be seen, that his life was justifiable. That he could go back to living a life in hope that it would all come back to him, the dream that Director Shepard and DiNozzo had stolen from him.

Tony's weak raspy voice filtered through the commotion filling his Boss and team in on what they were missing. The answer was nearly lost but they all heard it.

"Jeanne."

Gibbs, Ziva and Tim all looked at Tony in disbelief. Kort was torturing Tony because he had stolen from him, stolen the love of his life. Jake Maloney just stood backing up his team, his weapon never hesitant in its intended target, his head trying to figure out all the pieces in the puzzle.

Tony's voice had caused Kort to look in his direction. When had he figured that out?

As though reading his mind, Tony answered the man that had held him captive for so long.

"You get to thinking about what you've done to deserve this. You figure these things out with time and the only thing that I haven't paid my debt for was… her." Tony was interrupted by massive pain as his chest convulsed from the water that was now probably still in his lungs or the infection that was starting to manifest.

Hearing Tony's struggle for breath, Kort smiled. He quickly realized that three of the four guns in front of him were held a bit tighter than before and all of them were still aimed in his direction. Gibbs stepped closer to Kort who stepped backwards nearly placing his body on the lever that would plunge Tony into the electrified depths that he hovered above. Having grasped what he could have just achieved, Gibbs quickly held his ground, the shuffling of feet behind him having ceased as well. Gibbs had to keep Kort talking so he asked the one question that always got a response, "What happened?"

"I lost my job all because of that little bitch, Jenny. If she hadn't been so keen in pursuing La Grenouille, I would still be holding the puppet strings over the arms dealer market. After the break down of intelligence, I was seen as a liability, the CIA having given me the heave ho the minute they could. This meant that I wasn't in touch with La Grenouille's massive expanses but it also meant that I couldn't keep in contact with Jeanne.'

'I had taken photos of DiNozzo and Jeanne together. The party line for Grenouille was it was for information on his daughter's boyfriend. I did it out of revenge. Jeanne flirted with me whenever she was around. I loved her. We ended up together one night. She turned around a few days later saying she had met someone and that she no longer wished to have any contact with me."

Gibbs was starting to piece together what Tony already had. Kort had fallen in love with her, almost to the point of obsession. When he had discovered that DiNozzo was an undercover operative for NCIS and reporting directly to Jenny herself, well DiNozzo was as much to blame as she was. _She_ had stolen his name as a damn fine CIA operative and _he_ had stolen the love of his life. They both had to pay.

"After months of wallowing in self pity since Jeanne left," Kort continued, "I had come to the conclusion that none of this was my doing. None of it would have happened if it hadn't been for those two. So I killed La Grenouille, hoping for either DiNozzo or Shepard to take the fall. I had run into Jeanne, about three months after her father had been killed, my feelings for her helped force the lie that Tony had killed him. It had almost worked too until Ms. Shepard had stepped in, talking to Jeanne and making her confess that she hadn't been there. You," he nodded in Gibbs direction, "you had stuck your nose in where it didn't belong. You had to pay. You had broken my dream. I had to break something of yours."

Gibbs and Tony's eyes locked. Vivid and angry blue met weakened and distant grey. Tony's mind was reeling with information. Gibbs couldn't read what he was thinking but Gibbs knew that Tony hadn't failed to miss that all of this was concocted to seek revenge on something they had no control over. Trent Kort had planned all of this hurt so that he could feel better in himself. Kort was going to rot in jail for that.

Ziva and Tim could not believe what they were hearing. They thought the fiasco with La Grenouille was dead and buried, so to speak.

Jenny had thwarted his plans for revenge and ruined his life. DiNozzo still held Jeanne's heart. Gibbs had helped them do it. Oh, all of them had to pay. Kort figured he was at the end of his tether anyway. He really had nothing else left to lose.

"She didn't die well Gibbs."

Gibbs eyes refocused on his intended target, as he slowly lost the battle of shooting the man in front of him.

"The prime opportunity came when Jenny was attending the funeral of one of her close associates in Los Angeles. Decker, I think his name was. I had found out that Jenny had failed to neutralize a former operative that both of you had in common Gibbs. Natasha was willing to do the deed for not much money at all really. And then when I found out DiNozzo, here, was on the protection detail, well it was too good an opportunity to pass up. The original plan had DiNozzo caught in the cross fire of Jenny's death. Imagine my surprise to find that her protection was nowhere to be found."

Tony's eyes lit up at this piece of information. He was supposed to be killed in LA. If he had of been, Ziva may have been killed too. He looked over to his partner, her eyes not meeting his but he knew that she was taking in all this information with as much gusto as he was, soaking it up like a sponge.

Jenny Shepard had paid her debt. DiNozzo was an electric shock away from paying his.

Gibbs saw the moment of realization dawn on Kort's face as the loss and pain of what he had confessed meant he would lose the one thing he did have left – his life. He would be looking at life in prison for second degree murder on the Director of a Federal Agency. He had confessed to five Federal Agents, one that didn't even know the past stories of which he was talking about. Trent Kort was in a whole lot of trouble.

Kort quickly pieced together the few tracks that he had left uncovered. He laughed to himself that if he were still in the CIA, the proof that he had failed to conceal would have been a natural reaction to hide. Now that he had gone rogue, he had screwed up royally. Kort stared across to the team leader, the loss no longer hidden as he turned towards the lever that strung DiNozzo up from the electrified pool.

"_NO_!"

Gibbs voice echoed through the barren walls to cause Ziva and Tim to startle to attention. The gunshot hit its intended target; Trent Kort fell to the ground, moaning in pain as the blood oozed from the wound in his right shoulder.

Gibbs ran across the gap between him and Kort and firmly positioned himself above the perp. Gun aimed at his head, Gibbs considered the option of firing his entire clip into the head of the man that lay wounded on the ground.

"McGee, David, Maloney. Get Tony down."

Tim ran over to the lever that controlled the crane that Tony was attached to. With the simple joystick to maneuver his Senior Field Agent, Tim gently hoisted Tony down to the ground where Ziva was waiting to support his weight. He looked worse up close than what he had while he was hanging there from his wrists. Ziva leant across the small distance and whispered gently into Tony's ear.

"We've, got you."

Tony looked into the eyes of the Moussad officer, seeing the affection and sincerity her words held. As Maloney cut Tony's wrists free, Tim came over and put his other arm around Tony, his body obviously too weak to support itself.

"So, McGoo? Did you miss me?"

"Not really, but Abby did."

Tony's face took on mock hurt at the banter that Tim was trying to conjure out of nothing. Tony felt it would be better to play along. Showing how hurt he actually was about the little agent cutting away at the ropes would not bode well for him at the moment. It was a pain better left for a bottle of bourbon, in the basement, with his Boss.

Gibbs did not move from his position above Kort. He did not flinch, did not stutter and almost did not batter and eyelid until DiNozzo, with the support of Tim and now Maloney who had replaced Ziva in supporting Tony's weight, was almost level with him. He turned briefly to catch the eye of the man he had considered the son he never had. Tony's appearance was scary. He was thin, his ribs and collar bones protruding from under the skin that covered them. Gibbs noted that the belt that DiNozzo was wearing had several new holes punched into it, holding the tattered piece of clothing very loosely to his hips. Tony's usually smooth skin was covered with scars and cuts, and the usually tan colour had been replaced by a ghostly white.

"You look like crap, DiNozzo."

"Right back at ya, Boss. When was the last time you had any sleep?"

Gibbs, having returned his focus back onto Trent Kort couldn't help the smile that made its way across his lips. Tony was inches near death and he was inadvertently asking him how much caffeine he has had in the last three months.

"I lost count a while ago now, Tony. Why don't you take your posse over to the doors while we cuff this Dirt-bag?"

"You don't need to tell me twice."

If Tony could have mock saluted the man in front of him, he would have. Even if it meant he would get a slap to the back of the head. Tony shook his head as he hobbled over toward the distant doors of the warehouse. He was going home.

Gibbs squeezed ever so slightly on the trigger that was aimed at Kort's head.

"Go on, Gibbs. Do it! You know you want to."

Gibbs eyes squinted, piercing the former operative with his glare. As his trigger finger drew tighter, Gibbs swallowed and yelled to Ziva, "Cuff him."

Ziva, who had been standing just behind Gibbs, rolled Kort over onto his stomach, holding one wrist behind his back with a strength that was a surprise for a woman. As she reached for his other wrist, Kort noticed Gibbs had walked away, probably to re-gather some of that poker face he was renowned for. He watched closely as Gibbs observed his reflection in the electrified water that DiNozzo had minutes ago been in. Kort reached back with his elbow, the hard bone connecting with what could only be David's nose and Kort reached for the hidden weapon that had been concealed at his hip.

Gibbs walked away to calm the emotion that was threatening to surface. He felt like he was going to throw up, his stomach was turning cartwheels, suggesting he was missing something. He had to maintain all of his control from hitting Kort for the pain he had caused his team, his family. That would not look good in a court of law, however, if the assailant had been belted in the mouth by an angry Agent. No, Trent Kort was going to rot in jail for what he had done. The death of Jenny, that was one thing but add to that the systematic torture of a second Federal Agent and Kort would not see the outside world for the rest of his natural days. Gibbs stared at his reflection in the electrified water, composing himself as he comprehended how close he had come to actually losing Tony. That's when he heard the struggle between Ziva and Kort. The world slowed down, Seconds seemed like minutes as Gibbs noticed Ziva's head fling back as her nose was belted with the tip of Kort's elbow. The metallic bracelet that was attached to his left wrist, wrought loose from the startling effect the attack had on her. Gibbs reached for his gun once he saw that Kort had a concealed weapon, a sig, holstered to his hip. The holster was empty and the chamber was already being fired in the direction of his three unknowing agents walking towards the door, Kort's back was facing Gibbs as was Tim's, Tony's and John's. Kort got four rounds in the three of them before Gibbs grasped that he was firing his own weapon into the back of Trent Kort. No sound could be heard, no screams, no shots, just the ignition spark as each of Gibbs bullets left the chamber of his gun and pierced the skin of the assailant. Fourteen rounds emptied into Kort's being, the entire clip filled with anger, shock, malice and every other emotion that Gibbs was feeling. Every bullet hit its intended target as the ferocity of the hail of bullets pushed Kort around to look into the eyes of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Kort's eyes closed as the final bullet hit its mark – right between the eyes.

It was over.

Time sped up as Gibbs raced over to Ziva, making sure she was ok before he could get to the others. Ziva's nose was bleeding, blood was pouring out, her index finger and thumb holding the bridge trying to stem the flow.

"I am fine, Gibbs. Go check on the others."

Gibbs expression displayed the gratitude towards her. Words weren't required.

As Gibbs ran over to his fallen Agents, He couldn't help but notice that there was blood starting to pool on the concrete below them.

"McGee? You with me?"

"Yeah, Boss. Took a round to the shoulder."

"I caught one too, Gibbs. In my left arm, should be ok but."

Gibbs caught John Maloney's eye, nodding to him as a thank you for doing his job.

"DiNozzo? You still with us?"

Gibbs' smile disappeared as his order was met with silence. Before Tim had a chance to react, Gibbs noticed the blood seeping from two wounds, one was burbling, more than likely a bullet in a lung, the other, although not bleeding rapidly, was still cause for concern. It was placed directly above DiNozzo's heart.

Tim grabbed his jacket off and applied pressure to the holes in Tony. They did not go through all this hell to have Tony die in their arms. That was just not going to happen. Maloney stared in shock at what was happening in front of him. He didn't know DiNozzo very well but his reputation as a great agent and a loyal friend was enough for Maloney to regard him in an esteem that most would envy. Here he was, though, lying still, McGee putting pressure on the gun shots while Gibbs cradled the man in what could almost be called a hug. Gibbs was sitting beneath DiNozzo, propping him up, sharing a moment between the two. Maloney understood in that moment how much his predecessor meant to his Team Leader. He had heard rumours that DiNozzo had been disinherited at a young age and that Gibbs had lost his entire family while he had been fighting in Iraq. Theirs was a bond of respect and need. This was their family and John realized what a mistake he had made by sitting at Tony's desk. The first thing he was going to do would be to remove his things and put DiNozzo's items back where they belong.

Gibbs gently shook Tony, trying to arouse any response out of him. Gibbs wasn't going to let him die like this. Not after surviving months of torture only to have it end in front of him. Tony was not going to die. Gibbs would kill him if he did.

"Hey? You in there?"

No response was invoked by his Second in Command. Gibbs started running his fingers through the agents hair, hoping that the sign of affection would not go unnoticed by the man.

"Open your eyes, Tony. That's an order, do you hear me?"

Feebly, Tony's eyes formed slits, the focus on his mentor wavering. He was so tired.

"Kort?"

"He's dead DiNozzo."

No words escaped Tony's lips as a smile pinched the sides of his mouth. Tony opened his eyes back up, realizing he was failing Gibbs by closing them, Tony started to talk but the words were barely a whisper.

"What was that DiNozzo?"

Gibbs leant his head down and placed his ear next to Tony's mouth.

"I'm s-s-sorry, G-g…."

Tony's head lolled to the side, his eyes shut.

"Tony?"

Gibbs heart beats with a second of time.

"_TONY!?"_

Gibbs voice pierced the hearts of the other agents in the room. They look in Gibbs direction as they start to comprehend what's happening. Another heart beat resounds.

"_DINOZZO!"_

Gibbs whacked the top of Tony's head. Not like this. Not now.

Another heart beat.

No response.

"Tim get over here and give me a hand."

Gibbs laid Tony's motionless body on the cold floor in his own blood. Tim's jacket was still applied to the wounds in his back. Gibbs checked for a pulse and any sign of life.

Tony did not move.

Sirens drew near to the Dock yards.

Gibbs started breathing for his colleague. Tim started pounding whatever blood that was left in his body around.

Ziva watched as her partners work frantically on Tony.

Maloney winced as he made his way to the door of the warehouse, looking to guide help towards them.

Time slowed down.

A heart beat sounded.

A tear drop fell.

A life was disappearing into the afternoon sun.

* * *

_**A/N. Please let me know what you thought. I know what I think of it but sometimes it's good to have the other view so you can see if you've done well or not.**_

_**S**_


	11. This is it?

_**A/N: I'll leave them till the end...**_

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Chapter 11: Is this it?

Gibbs regarded his reflection in the mirror. The black circles under his eyes illustrated the sleepless nights spent under the frame of his new boat. His joints were as stiff as the wooden skeleton that lay exposed in the concrete bucker. The minimal movement that Gibbs had made in the week since they had found Tony was testament to that. The boat was not good company for sleeping on, but if you added the bottle of bourbon, the combination allowed for moments of solace, even if they were only two hours in length.

He reached for the black tie that hung loosely around his neck. The calloused hands slid the double Windsor knot tighter so that it caressed the nape of his neck in an uncomfortable manner, almost a metaphor for the tightening in his chest. Swallowing away the emotion that was building within him, his hands fell to his sides in defeat. He was as ready for this as he was ever going to be. His suit was pressed and dry cleaned, causing it to sit neatly across his marine shoulders, to play down his back in the tailored fit it was designed for. If only Tony could see him now.

Gibbs took one last look at the man reflecting back. He inhaled one final, deep breath and then turned his back on it, leaving the confines of his room in his wake.

************

Gibbs reached the small chapel well before any other guests arrived. He needed a moment, a moment to reflect, a moment to remember. He had a lifetime ahead in which to try and forget.

The coffin was simple. Brown maple, shined to a fine sheen. Gibbs felt the need to open it, to lay witness to its contents. To make sure that it was real. The week behind him was a blur of alcohol and sawdust. The weeks that were going to follow, Gibbs had to be sure that he was able to remember them. He was having a hard time dealing with all of this. A sense of closure was what he needed. At the very least, his gut may stop churning long enough for him to get some sleep. He knew that was hope in his thoughts. The reality was all of this mess was far from over.

************

Even though Tony had been missing for three months, Gibbs still hadn't sorted through the boxes in the spare room. All of Tony's belongings had been moved from his apartment into Gibbs house during that time. All of the team had discussed continuing to pay the bills while Tony was away, acting a little bit like it was just an extended holiday, but they had made the conclusion about two months in that they couldn't keep it up forever. They spoke to the landlord. He had said that he would only lease Tony's apartment out on short term leases so that when Tony was found, he could have it back with no questions asked. Gibbs had made sure that the man understood what was at stake if he didn't keep his word. The three Federal Agents standing in front of him on his doorstep were testament to that.

************

Abby had been by to offer to give Gibbs a hand to sort through all of Tony's stuff. He knew that she was coping about as well as he was – not well. He had allowed her to spend the night surrounded by all the dusty boxes filled with Tony's DVDs and photos. She had slept on Gibbs' couch, having cried herself to sleep, the lines of mascara that trailed down her cheeks having given her away.

************

Ducky had called in with a casserole and only managed to get one story in before he was showed the door, not in an unfriendly manner by any means. Gibbs had explained that he needed some time to himself. Ducky understood as only a good friend would.

************

Ziva and Tim had called by mid-week to find Gibbs passed out below the ceiling of his basement. He was leaning up against the cupboards that housed all of his tools, the frame of his new boat missing from its confines. Ziva regarded how tired the man was and felt the need to leave him to rest. She motioned to Tim, suggesting that they might call back later after their Team Leader had some sleep. Attempting to creep back up the stairs, a squeaky floor board gave away their presence to the only other person in the room.

"So, you're not even going to say hello?"

The two junior agents slowly turned their heads in the direction of the man opposite them, his body in a position of discomfort. That was the only motion the two of them managed. Gibbs, by all accounts, was probably still slightly hung over. The other thing that came into play was that he hadn't had his morning coffee. They were in unfamiliar territory. They had to tread lightly on this one.

Failing to get any words from either of the two people in front of him, Gibbs felt the need to break the silence.

"Well?"

Tim wanted to reply but was frozen in his place, unable to respond to the simple question. The awkwardness of the situation was an illustration of the emotion that was still running high in all of them. Finally, Tim's brain managed to move the rest of his body, forcing it to turn around and face the ex-marine on the floor.

"Morning Boss. We were… ah…"

Tim looked towards Ziva for some support but found that she was becoming as functional a mute as Gibbs was. Well, not functional exactly, more of a mime. She was miming a really life-like statue. Tim felt he wasn't far behind her.

Ziva caught Tim off guard. She finished his sentence for him, protecting him from the head slap he was sure he was going to end up with once Gibbs managed to get off the floor.

"We came by to see how you are. It has been a hard week…"

Ziva paused as she delved into her own memories, pushing them away with the tears she felt rising to the surface. She locked her line of sight with Gibbs' blood-shot eyes. She found the courage to continue her line of thought.

"…it has been hard for all of us."

Gibbs took in the facial expressions that Ziva and Tim conveyed, feeling his own emotions replaying across his face back at them. Gibbs nodded his head in acceptance, his eyes darting everywhere besides looking at either of his colleagues.

"I need coffee."

With that gesture he tried to remove himself from the concrete floor, only to find that his joints would not co-operate. Tim having seen the problem reacted the way his boss had taught him to.

"That's ok. I'll get it for you. You stay there. Ziva…"

Tim was at a loss as to what Ziva was to do. He once again looked at the Moussad Officer for help, hoping she would pick up on the line he was taking. They needed the normal routine. All of them needed it. Without it, they would all probably fall apart.

Ziva caught Tim's eye, acknowledging silently that she was to stay with Gibbs. She stuttered the thought towards the man on the floor.

"I will..."

She paused trying to think of something to say.

"I will…"

Gibbs looked at the woman in front of him and offered her some piece of mind.

"_You_ will keep me company," he stated as he nodded his head slightly in Ziva's direction.

Ziva and Tim smiled. Gibbs was still being Gibbs, even through all this mess. They all needed that. Gibbs reached into his pocket, motioning for Tim to come closer.

"Here you go, Tim, my round."

"It's no hassle, Boss. I can get it."

Tim saw the glare that was directed his way. He meandered over and reservedly took the twenty being offered to him, nodding in acceptance of his position.

"Two coffees and a tea. I'll be back in fifteen."

As Tim nearly stumbled over himself climbing the stairs out of the basement, Ziva placed herself above Gibbs looking down towards him. The light that was filtering in through the windows caused her face to fall in shadow. She held out her hand.

"Would you like me to help you up, Gibbs?"

"Nah." Gibbs purposely dragged out the monosyllabic word, using it to hide the discomfort of the compromising position he had found himself in.

"I will take that as a yes."

With their hands locked tightly around the other persons, the gesture was not lost on Gibbs as he realized they all needed each other's support through this. If anything could get them through, that notion could.

************

They had all taken time off. Actually, Vance had forced them all to take time off, stating it was for the good of the agency as well as themselves. Gibbs had found himself trying to keep busy but failing. He had also found that his house was never empty. It seemed they all needed each others strength to support each of their own weakness. Gibbs would never accept that he had any – weakness, that is. He did silently, however, find his own strength in one place.

************

He preferred to walk. He had the time and it wasn't that far from where he lived anyway. Walking the now familiar path, Gibbs found himself lost in thoughts of Tony. Tony's smile was almost in all of them. There were a few images, the ones that made Gibbs proud, that also snuck in; when Tony had told him to read Moby Dick while they were trying to locate Ari back when Kate had been kidnapped. There was also that time when Tony had stepped up to the plate when Gibbs had been taken hostage in that school stand-off.

Gibbs found his thoughts then travelled to all the times he hadn't been there for his Second-in-Command, times like when he had retired and moved to Mexico. Tony had managed to keep all the team together, never once complaining and having achieved it better than anyone had given him credit for.

Another proud moment was when Tony had finally stood up to Jenny after he had returned to HQ after losing sight of La Grenouille. The instant when Tony had told her that he was never going to be her puppet ever again, Gibbs remembered smiling, the pride so powerful he couldn't hide it.

The clincher, however, was when during the Renny Grant debacle, Gibbs had pulled Tony aside. The look that graced his face was etched in Gibbs' memory as the words "…and me proud," had fallen from his lips. Tony looked like a kid at Christmas whose wishes had all come true. That was the moment that Gibbs had to hold onto. That was the moment when he saw Tony in his true form. There was no mask, no façade, no jokes, no fake smile. That was Tony as Tony was meant to be remembered. Tony as the man any father like figure should be proud of. Gibbs felt he had the right to tell Tony that. Gibbs, in that split second had been as proud of Tony as any father had the right to be of their son. Gibbs didn't disregard the depth of emotion he held for that man. In fact, it made Gibbs proud that even Anthony DiNozzo had managed to break through the tough skin of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. That thought forced a few tears to escape. Gibbs only blamed them on the missing breeze in the night.

************

The sun shone through the gap in the curtain that covered the window. Its early morning rays fell onto the blanket that had mysteriously ended up over his body during the night. The night wasn't overly cold but he silently thanked whomever it was that had offered the gesture. Gibbs squinted at the bright dawn creeping in, stretching the new aches from his body with such force that he inadvertently let an audible yawn escape his lips.

Gibbs adjusted his body into a more comfortable position, standing and walking over to the curtain and let the world shine through. Today was going to be a better day. He could feel it.

It had been nearly six months to the day when Tony had been shot by Trent Kort. Gibbs face faltered at the memory. He nearly broke into an old habit of reclosing the blind when something – a noise – forced him to change his mind.

"Boss?"

Gibbs turned around with the force of a jet engine. He didn't just hear that. That was real, right? It had barely been a whisper but he did hear that.

Gibbs practically ran to the side of the bed. He took his fallen agent's hand in his own.

"Tony? Tony can you hear me?"

Gibbs held his breath as he waited for a response from the man he had held a vigil over for nearly six months. Maybe it had been his imagination. Maybe he was holding onto the hope too hard. He was probably going crazy, all these nights staying in hospital chairs and catching Tony up on what was happening in the world. Tony had slowly been on the mend. His body just needed time to recover, the doctors had said. It had been six months and Tony was showing all of them that he was a fighter. He was defying the odds just by being found alive after three months of torture. The fact that Trent Kort had been so meticulous and power hungry had worked in the team's favour. It had given them time to find Tony and they had found him, only for them to lose him twice on the operating table. He had come back to them but he had been damaged. His body and his spirit had been broken.

Gibbs had come to see Tony after he had gone to Trent Kort's funeral. Gibbs witnessed the few people that showed, none mourned for the former agent's passing. Most seemed to be current or former work colleagues, most, Gibbs noted, were there out of idle curiosity rather than respect for a fallen comrade.

Gibbs had come to see Tony the first night after they had returned to work, feeling like he was betraying him for having to continue on with his life. Gibbs had explained what Ziva and Tim, as well as himself, had sorted out with his landlord. Gibbs laughed slightly when he was explaining the look of sheer terror that had crossed the man's face once he realized that all three of them were Federal Agents and they were standing on his doorstep. Gibbs had to add as an aside that Tony, now, probably had the most honest property-owner in the country.

Gibbs smile faded with the memory, as he regarded that once again, his hope was getting the best of him. He was obviously hearing things. The fact was, Gibbs could finally admit that all he wanted was for Tony to say anything. Gibbs had a sneaking suspicion that once Pandora's Box was open, Gibbs would be wishing for it to be shut just as quickly.

"Tony?"

Gibbs squeezed the man's hand, hoping against hope that it would get a response.

"Tony?"

This time it was said with a little more desperation. Gibbs had waited six months. He had been patient. The almighty Gibbs was not a patient man. Now finally, the tether was starting to break.

Gibbs tried with all his might to stay calm. He was sure he had heard it. This wasn't good enough. Tony had talked. Gibbs did not imagine it.

"TONY!"

"I can hear you, Boss. I'm not deaf."

Tony's voice was barely a whisper. His throat was dry and sore to say the least. He needed something to drink and motioned the gesture to Gibbs.

Gibbs nearly strangled the man. After six months, Tony was awake. He was still a smart-arse and Gibbs wasn't sure if he was grateful or disappointed.

"You think this is funny, DiNozzo??"

Tony's eyes opened slightly, pain hitting the optic nerve.

"Well, yeah, Boss. If I didn't think it was funny, it would be like poking a Grizzly with a twig – stupid and dangerous."

Gibbs pressed the on call button for the nurse.

A tall, red head entered the room, her nurse's uniform pressed neatly against her body. Looking around in a slight panic, she regarded the man holding the button, the smile on his face a dead giveaway that it wasn't a serious emergency.

"He would like something to drink."

The nurse looked down towards Tony. His eyes were closed but she could see the smile that lay across his face.

Gibbs thought to himself, today was going to be a great day.

* * *

_**A/N: So who wants to kill me??? Did I have you going??? Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I'm not overly happy with it myself, but you never know, someone out there might have liked it...**_


	12. Epilolgue

**_A/N: here it is and you all waited so patiently for it and I am grateful. This goes out to all of you as a Merry Christmas present! I know it's not much and I think all my loyal readers, alerters, favouriters and silent nighters ( ;) ) out there in FFnet-land deserve so much more but seeing as I do not know real names in a lot of cases let alone addresses, this is what you will get XD_**

**_I hope you enjoy!_**

**_S  
_**

* * *

Chapter 12: Epilogue

Tony had been released into the real world almost three months after he had woken up from his coma. The scars on his body had healed except for the bandages on his wrists; the gash in his back a distant memory as well as the gun shot wound to his leg. As for the near-drowning and electrocution, that was another matter. It had been just over a year since he had been initially been taken hostage by Kort. The nightmares still lingered, even causing a physical reaction in sleep apnea.

The automatic doors slid open as the nurse pushed his protocol placed wheelchair. He wasn't a cripple. He wanted to walk but unfortunately for Tony, Gibbs had been present in his room when he was told all the recommendations and provisions he had to take in being allowed to go home. Tony nodded, albeit absently, as the nurse informed him that he had to have someone with him at all times for the next month or so. Tony had started to open his mouth in protest , only to be met with a stare that suggested that if he didn't follow the orders, Gibbs would bring him right back to the hospital.

Tony didn't want to push his luck.

So here he was, getting released into the care of the team. Tony couldn't believe how often he had to rely on them but there never seemed to be any words of protest at the effort.

Tony had expected to see Gibbs on the other side of the automatic doors as they slid open. The sun hit his face in a gentle hug. It had been too long since the outside world had seen his face and he thought to himself, he forgot to shave. That thought brought a smile to his face as he gently rubbed the stubble lazing across his chin. Tony glanced around looking for the familiar silver haired man, knowing that Gibbs would be nearing the end of his tether as it had taken longer than expected to sign all the paraphernalia to get him out of the bleached walls of Bethesda. After his pile of pills was brought to his room, Tony had grabbed his gear and steamrolled down the hall into freedom. Making Gibbs wait was not a good idea on a good day and Tony was dreading the look of hatred he would get from his Team Leader. It would almost be bad enough to want to be back with Kort – almost.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief when instead of finding the perfect-postured, pissed-off Marine, he found instead the flapping pig-tails of his favorite Forensic Scientist.

"Have you even got room in the hot rod for all my junk, Abs?"

Tony's voice carried across the crowded car park, causing a few heads to turn in his direction at the uncouth act of the wheelchair bound man. Tony didn't care as his eyes were met with the one's he had aimed for, the lines at the side matching the true nature of the beaming smile that sat on her lips. God it was good to be going home!

***********

Tony had thanked McGee the first night he had stayed with him. Tony had confessed to the man the one thing he always promised himself he never would. He had dreams of Tim while he was in captivity, not in a messed up way, but he had told Tim he had helped him stay focused on the task at hand. Tim had helped him survive just as Tony had helped Tim to find the clues that would lead them to him. They both smiled at each other with the confessions they had begrudgingly set free. The moments silence was quickly followed by Tony telling McGee to take his pick of whatever movie he wanted to watch from his collection. Tony hadn't even minutely responded as Tim had thoughtfully skipped past A Clockwork Orange to land on One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, a classic tale of two mental asylum patients that escape the clutches of their institution to be free in a world they had forgotten how to live in. The parallel of choice was not lost on Tony. In fact, he embraced the man quickly, displaying the gratitude he felt in that one gesture. Tony had heard Tim had found the first two leads into his disappearance. He was eternally grateful for Tim never having given up hope. Tim smiled distantly and distractedly at the statement. Tony was never going to know that the image of him, all bloody and bruised, had seeped into his being, shattering any thoughts of finding his friend alive. Tony didn't need to know that he had nearly lost his hope.

Forgetting the heaviness of the previous thought, Tim placed the DVD in its player and sat back only to be disturbed by the doorbell. Tony's eyes lit up at the sound. Even though he had been home from Bethesda for almost a week, he hadn't had much of an appetite, his stomach probably having shrunk due to the months he had gone without food.

"Pizza!"

Tim got up, happy to accommodate his friends need to take it easy. Hell, he was just happy he was able to have this moment with Tony.

After the Pizza guy had been paid (and tipped extremely well) Tim sat down as the opening scene rolled across the screen, Tony engrossed in the start of it even though he had seen it many times before. It was a classic. Classics were meant to be watched over and over and over…

Drifting away with the story and munching slowly on his piece of pizza, Tony nearly missed the words that came out of Tim's mouth.

"What was that Probie?" Tony's mouth was filled with food. Tim ignored it.

"I said," after swallowing his piece, "Melissa Bainbridge."

"Mmmhmmm."

"You had a date with her before, well, you know…"

"Yeeeeaaaaah." Tony drawled the word, turning a monosyllabic word into two. His eyes widened as it clicked that Tim thought he had been out with a pretty young thing the night he had gone missing. He had to play this up to set his persona back into place. He was the stud of the team. He had a reputation to uphold. Tony turned to Tim, a megawatt grin placed neatly across his face, about to explain what a night he had before, well, you know…

Tim interrupted him before he could start.

"You've known her since she was three?"

Tony gagged on his slice of sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese.

************

Into the third week of staying with his team mates, Ziva had drawn the short straw, or little stick, as she had explained it to Tony. He just smiled slightly at her mistake not wanting to ruin the rest of the week by correcting her English on the first night that he was staying with her. He failed to see the look of disappointment that fell into the depth of her deep brown eyes.

There had been uneasiness between the two of them since he had woken up. Tony had a feeling what the problem was but was not at a place where he was ready to discuss it. That would be a weakness he wouldn't allow Ziva, seeing as she had already seen him in a compromising and unfavourable manor about nine months earlier. Tony shut his eyes trying to force the image of her looking up at him as he was strung up like a piece of meat dangling from a hook. He had caught her slight glimpses in his direction over the course of the day and knew that she wanted to talk about it but she was also aware that he was not ready.

"We do not need to discuss it, you know?"

Tony's ears pricked in her direction as he wondered when Gibbs super powers had been passed onto his super-ninja. He had been absent for over a year. It was to be expected that she would have some new tricks that Tony was not privy to.

He turned his head and watched as she made her way around the kitchenette of her new apartment. The smell of her bolognaise was filtering into the lounge as he smelt the air hungrily. His stomach growled in appreciation.

"Smells good!"

Ziva smiled as she heard the compliment, knowing full well that Tony was getting his appetite back and being able to cook for him gave her goose-bumps, as only weeks before she had been thinking she would never get the chance again. She smiled even wider as she brought the simple dish over and placed a bowl in Tony's lap with a knife and fork.

Tony looked at her and then at his lap, glancing back up in her direction again with a frown on his face.

"Do you not like spaghetti bolognaise?"

"A knife, Ziva?"

"Oh, Tony I am so sorry. I did not realize and that was incredibly insensitive of me. I should have realized that you would be upset by the presence of a knife. I'll…"

Ziva jumped up quickly from her place, her dinner plate falling from her lap and on to the rug on the floor. She moaned as she saw the mess seep into the expensive carpet.

Tony got up and carefully made his way across to her kitchen, grabbing the dish cloth and some white vinegar as Ziva kneeled on the rug and placed her ruined food back into the bowl, cursing in several languages as she did so. The one that Tony heard though was Ziva calling herself stupid for not having grasped that Tony would not want to be around knives for a while.

Tony used the arm of Ziva's couch to steady him as he crouched down and started rubbing at the stain with the vinegar laden cloth. Ziva wrinkled her nose at the smell. She watched as Tony gently rubbed away at the red pool on the ground, stopping suddenly at the motion. Memories flooded back of the dark pool he had hung above. He shut his eyes tight, trying to force the memory away into the recess of his mind. That didn't stop the shaking that had commenced nor the panicked breathing that had started.

Ziva saw Tony's reaction and gently placed her hands on Tony's, helping him rub at the stain on the carpet, making sure that her motions tied in with the steady breaths she was taking. Tony felt the anguish die away as he focused on the motion of the cloth cleaning the mess. Eventually, both of them looked into each other's eyes and acknowledged the metaphor that was displayed in front of them.

"I am sorry, Tony."

"For what, Ziva?"

"Well, I knew that you, you…"

"I…?"

Tony tilted his head so that he was in Ziva's line of sight. She held tightly to the cloth, absently wringing it with her hands. Tony caught her eye, giving her the confidence to carry on with her line of thought.

"…I knew that Kort, um, attacked you with a knife…"

"Yeah?"

Tony was confused by where this was going.

"And, well, I… I placed a knife with your dinner…"

Tony held his head back and laughed. Ziva's eyes nearly popped out of her head in shock. Maybe he was losing it. Maybe they had been premature in bringing him home. Maybe he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Maybe…

Ziva's thought's were interrupted by the easing of Tony's breathing and him trying to construct a sentence in between breaths.

"You think… I was… the knife…?"

Tony laughed harder. Ziva worried about the mental state of her friend, slapped the man in anguish.

"OW! What was that for?"

"You were going crazy!"

"Ziva, I was laughing."

Rubbing his cheek, where the slap had connected, Tony smiled as he tried to explain himself.

"Ziva, when you placed a knife on my lap and I asked about it, it wasn't to do with what I went through with Kort."

"Well, you looked at me in such a hurt manner, what else was I meant to think?"

"Ziva, you don't eat pasta with a knife!"

Ziva smiled and let out a gentle laugh.

Tony just grinned right back at her.

************

Tony had not missed the gesture made by Jake Maloney. From what he had heard from Ziva and Tim, he was going to make a fantastic agent one day.

Tony had walked into the office to an array of handshakes and pats on the back. He had noticed that his desk was tidy and clean, not a speck of dust to be found. He eyed the junior agent, the man that had cut his hands free from the ropes bound around his wrists. He rubbed the tender skin still present there, the bandages long gone but the scars still remained. Tony sat down at his desk, _his_ desk. Boy it felt good to be back. It was like riding a bike. You never forgot how to do it or what it felt like. Tony sat down and smiled as he rubbed the palms of his hands across the shiny, polished flat surface. All of his things were still in their place, his letter opener, his mighty mouse stapler, his American Pie coffee mug – all were where he left them, cleaner and somehow, newer. Maybe it was his imagination, the image of a new start on Team Gibbs. God it was good to be back!

Jake looked sideways in Tony's direction, watching with awe as the man that had survived months of torture, dying twice on an operating table, having been nearly blown up and rumour had it, he had also survived the plague, sat down at _his_ desk. Once Agent DiNozzo had been admitted to hospital, Jake had left his colleagues in the waiting room and snuck back to restore the natural order of things.

It was a good thing he had a photographic memory otherwise the desk would be noticeable to the Senior Field Agent once he returned to work, if he knew anything had been moved.

Jake heard a lot of stories about DiNozzo. He was almost a phantom if Jake hadn't actually been there when they rescued him. He seemed like the figment of someone else's imagination.

The reality was though, Anthony DiNozzo was as real as the rest of team Gibbs. As for himself, he was leaving for a recruitment job in Rota, Spain. His transfer was effective as soon as Agent DiNozzo was back on duty. That order had come through this morning with his papers being sent off with a glorified reference from Agent Gibbs.

Jake couldn't help but smile.

The gesture was not missed by Tony.

************

It had all come to a head, one night about six months after he had awoken from his coma. Gibbs had insisted that Tony come and help him with the boat.

Tony had been getting frustrated with desk work. The psychiatrist would not sign off on him doing field work although she had felt that he was definitely competent enough to be a desk jockey for a while. The case they were working had hit a little too close to home. The parents of a young female Petty Officer had received pictures of their tortured daughter, bruising and cuts evident across her entire body. Gibbs had noticed Tony flinch with every introduction that Ducky made of each torture technique. Tony had assured them that he was up to it. Gibbs just figured that he eventually had to face what Kort had done to him so that he could move on with his life.

Tony had explained in great detail some of the scarring he had across his body. The huge gash that had been displayed across his back had healed but badly. The skin that was there was coarse and even though the width was not big, the scar was imbedded below the normal level of skin on the rest of his back, illustrating the depth the weapon had been dragged across his back, time and time again.

The bullet wound to his left leg was hardly noticeable. It hadn't been infected like the gash on his back. Tony had explained that that scar, although a reminder of a painful memory, didn't worry him so much.

Gibbs listened to Tony's almost report-like manner as he watched the younger man absently rub his wrists, unaware of the habit. Gibbs was not buying any of it. He had to get through to the younger man otherwise this would never be solved and Tony would never be anything besides being tied to a desk. Gibbs knew that Tony would not be able to cope with that, so the silver-haired gentleman put his own feelings of comfort to one side, hoping to help the younger man across from him.

************

The night was plundering into the early hours of the following morning. The two men had sat in silence for close to two hours, neither acknowledging the other save for the motion of saw dust falling to the floor, or movement from the third step to refill the glass in their hand. Both were lost in thought. Gibbs tried to figure out what had kept Tony alive. Tony was lost in his own thoughts of darker days and pain-filled nights.

************

Images filled Tony's head of that last day. He remembered most of what happened; waking up in the pool, being unable to breathe. Tony's lungs were constricting with the memory, as if he were back there, fighting for his life and wishing it were over.

************

Gibbs had become aware of a slight snoring coming from the bottom of his steps. He smiled into his jar filled with bourbon as he let the young man sleep. He needed the sleep. It had been nearly a month since the nightmares had left Tony in peace, allowing the younger man some moments of rest that he so desperately needed.

************

Tony coughed and inhaled sharply. He felt the pain ravage his body as he shook with a force as the electrical current pierced through his core, his heart and soul. It attacked every limb, every organ, every desire of being kept alive was lost with that force. The pain was unbearable. The shaking was as strong as an earthquake except he was the only one suffering. Tony didn't want to live anymore. It just wasn't worth it.

************

Gibbs had not missed the sharp intake of breath, nor the beads of sweat that lay across Tony's brow. Gibbs knew the signs. Tony was having a nightmare, the same one that he had every night since he had woken up. Tony never spoke about it, mainly because he never remembered having had it the next day. Gibbs had always managed to calm him down before it became too much.

Gibbs shook Tony, trying to pull him out of his nightmare.

"Tony? Tony, c'mon. You've got to wake up son. It's only a nightmare."

************

Tony was lost in imagery of sore, red wrists, convulsing in pools of water and massive amounts of pain that wracked his body. His face held defeat, reflected fear and oozed pain. His mask had disappeared with the months of torture. He wanted to die. Gibbs be damned, he couldn't do this anymore. It had been weeks, months probably since his team had probably given up on finding him. Tony knew the stats, hell he was sure everyone on his team knew the stats. They had probably held a vigil for him and have all moved on with their lives, moving on and forgetting all about their work-colleague.

************

Gibbs could not get Tony to wake up. He shook the living daylights out of him, trying to get him to wake up and try to forget what had happened to him.

"Tony!"

Gibbs voice was more forceful.

"Tony! Wake up NOW!"

************

Tony struggled for breath. He was going under the water level again. He could feel his heart beating, almost having it break through his chest. He couldn't breathe. There was no air. The Oxygen was gone. His life was disappearing into the night.

Gibbs watched as Tony's breathing stopped.

"DINOZZO!!!"

Gibbs dragged Tony's motionless body down the steps. The doctors had warned him that Tony was suffering from acute sleep apnea but they had told him it would resolve itself.

They had said that the stress of what had happened was probably causing the switch in his brain that tells him to breathe to malfunction, sort of like a light switch that the bulb needs replacing. Usually, though, Tony started breathing again after a few seconds.

They were well past a few seconds.

Tony and Gibbs were in the realm of about thirty seconds.

Gibbs checked Tony's pulse. It was still there and firing away like an automatic firearm into the body of another human being.

Gibbs placed his lips over Tony's, not even giving the gesture another thought. Gibbs breathed the stale air into Tony's malfunctioning lungs, ignoring the blue tinge that covered his lips and the pale complexion of his skin.

"Dammit DiNozzo! Don't you dare quit on me now!"

Gibbs re-checked Tony's pulse, relieved to find it was still there.

Gibbs knelt back down, breathing more air into the still frame of his surrogate son.

Tony sucked in with immense force, the air he had been striving for. He gulped and coughed like a hungry baby looking for milk. The problem though with all the effort of craning for air, the shock of what was occurring became too overwhelming. He couldn't figure out where he was. It was dark and familiar but it was all wrong. There was a boat. The beads of sweat fell into his eyes but the inability of his brain to put two and two together was all too much. It all caved in and imploded in a way he hadn't shown for many years. He cried. He sucked the air in and the tears fell. It was all too much.

It was over. It was finally over. Gibbs had come for him after all.

Gibbs felt the first breath come through with the pressure he had been applying to Tony's neck. The air that attacked Tony's lungs brought through waves of emotion, emotion that Gibbs didn't know how to deal with.

His second in command had gone through hell and he had lived. He was still reliving that hell but he was still fighting.

He had been missing for months and he was alive. He was in recovery for months but he still fought.

No wonder sobs were wracking his body. Tony was strong in character, strong in stubbornness and strong in morals so to see Tony like this, so vulnerable, Gibbs had no idea what to do. This was Abby's area of expertise. He had no idea how to deal with this. So Gibbs did all he could think of doing – he took a leaf out of Abby's book and hugged the man. Neither found it uncomfortable or awkward. It almost felt natural, like a father would hug a young son that had scraped his knee. The elder man whispered reassuring words into the younger man's ear, making sure, all the while, that Tony knew that it was real and it was over. Gibbs had him. Kort couldn't hurt him anymore, not in real life nor in his dreams. Gibbs had done his duty to his agent. He had found him alive and he had kept him alive. Together, Gibbs and the team would help to keep it that way.

_**Finis

* * *

**_

**_A/N Love to you all_**

**_xxx  
_**


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